


Judged And Sentenced

by DeepPerplexity



Category: Sweeney Todd (2007)
Genre: (SLOWBURN - not kidding…), 1830s, Age Difference, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Despair, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Forced Marriage, Forgiveness, Growing love, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Law Enforcement, London, Love, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, Marriage, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Shameless Smut, Shameless writing, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Wedding a stranger, another era, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:42:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29585340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepPerplexity/pseuds/DeepPerplexity
Summary: Request:I just would like to ask if you are thinking of writing about Judge Turpin 😇 I am currently watching it (for like the 636373th time xD) and I was wondering [...] a romance between a female reader and him where they are to be married the first time they meet and she hates him instantly but later on come to find that he's a gentleman towards her and treats her more than good. [...] Maybe it's a common topic/theme but everyone writes differently! Different aspect, different description and yours is sooo unique! // mickmarstookmyheart@AO3 (elizabeth-baelish@tumblr)Summary:You were to be married off to Judge Turpin, also known as Death's Judge, despite never having met the man. Needless to say, you were furious and refused. Yet, your father managed to ask the right question to make you change your mind. After all, a marriage to the Judge would secure your family and elevate their status. But was it worth giving up love for such a simple thing as security for your family through something as cold as money? Well, apparently, as you were prepared to embark on a journey through life as Lady Turpin.
Relationships: Judge Turpin/Female!Reader, Judge Turpin/Reader
Comments: 110
Kudos: 34
Collections: Judge Turpin Collection, Reader Insert





	1. To Wed A Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** So, this was/is super fun to write - I try to keep the language a little more subtle to go with the timeframe of the 1830s but at the same time I don’t want you all to have to look words up so it’s not that traditional I guess. English is not my native language and I do not want to spend hours upon hours to find old words that are “accurate” and stuff. But I hope you’ll enjoy this all the same. 
> 
> Btw, did you guys know Judge Turpin is 65 years old in Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber Of Fleet Street? O.O I thought he was supposed to be like 55 tops, but no, he’s 65 xD In this story I will keep him at the ripe age of 53 though - feel free to imagine whatever age you want even if numbers are mentioned xD Also, I named him Richard Charles Turpin as no other name than Judge/Lord Turpin is mentioned - hope you like the names! <3
> 
> _**+A/N:** I’d like for everyone to just remember the time period this is set in, the 1830s in the Sweeney Todd movie, and that means things are different from today’s society and not historically accurate exactly! Like age for marriage, gender roles, behaviour, clothes, etc. and do keep in mind I am not a historian xD_
> 
> **To understand this fic you need to know that:** Lucy died when she took arsenic and Joanna was taken to an orphanage as Turpin could not bear to see the child after having truly lost all hope regarding Lucy. Benjamin (Todd) does not return to London until 1846 so he's not in the picture at all for this story. 
> 
> **Setting:** Late 1830s England, London.

* * *

“ _I WILL NOT MARRY HIM!_ ” you screamed at the top of your lungs towards your mother and father as you paced the dining room where they were seated. Where you had been seated a moment ago, a chair laid toppled and a wineglass had spilt its content as it laid on its side. The white table cloth stained red.  
“(Y/n),” your mother chided, “you will marry Judge Turpin and you will be _happy_ about it! Mark my words, if you put a toe out of line regarding such a fine man as he, _we will disown you!_ ” You gasped at your mother’s words as your father sat in silence. 

You turned towards him, your beloved father who always kept your interests at heart as you were his firstborn. All other sisters had been married off to fine gentlemen - except Dorothy, she was married to a farmer but with plenty of love in the marriage. You glared at your father who remained silent for another moment.  
“Sweetheart, he is an upstanding man and his reputation is not all that there is to him. He will keep you in comfort for all your days and you will never have to fear poverty or disgrace in his company. Surely, you must see what an advantageous marriage this is for you and your family as your mother has pointed out?” You stomped your foot on a slight growl and bunched up your skirts before you stormed out of the hall. You went through the hallway and kitchen, where Cook was fixing up a simple dinner for the evening, and off you went towards the fields as you barreled your way through the open kitchen door and across the backyard; your feet stomped the ground with fury and rage. 

“Forced marriage, upstanding man, advantages and money, _it’s absurd!_ ” You growled in a high pitch as you forced your way across the meadow with hip-high grass and treacherous burrows, rocks and piles of dirt from various creatures burrowing or hunting for food.  
“Marrying someone I’ve never even met, such nonsense! How am I even supposed to accept that?” _Why has papa agreed? He always, he always allowed me to marry for love and by my own free will before…_ You shook your head in exasperation while the sun warmed your skin and the soggy ground dampened with autumn rain kept your feet horribly cold. You walked and walked and walked. Fueled by anger and hurt that your parents would do such a thing to you. _I should have known, only Dorothy has married for love. The youngest is always doted on. Everyone else has a good marriage, despite the lack of love. Maybe I could-, NO, no I am not even going to allow that thought to exist! I am not some animal to be sold to the highest bidder!_

But, apparently, you were. Five weeks later - and a whole lot of angry outbursts and threats - you were dressed in a lovely [dress](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/19/f1/14/19f114cff7a2c6171ec603c522398f8f.jpg) of satin, ruffles and lace. Your waist cinched into a corset, the skirts layered and puffy, lace covered your chest and hung below your shoulders where it was draped over more satin that ended in ruffles that covered your arms. The only bit of skin that was showing was your upper chest and neck. A veil covered your head and hung down before your face, thin lace as light as a feather yet it travelled all the way down to the floor at your back. 

Your mother fiddled with the skirts, your sisters giggled and smiled as they kept you company while getting ready. Everyone seemed so pleased. So infuriatingly happy about your wedding when you were anything but happy. _I can’t believe they are forcing me to do this, I can’t believe it, it’s not fair. I’m 23, I still have time to find love! To marry someone who isn’t, so old and cruel..._ Your mind was a dark place of fear and lost hope. Somewhere deep inside you, a war was going on. On one side of the muddy battlefield were your hopes, dreams and wishes while on the other was your family, the proper thing to do and some sense of duty. It was infuriating to keep your hopeful side in check as the other side was winning. You were marrying for all the wrong reasons that were right for others. 

“Dear, let’s go, we can’t keep the good Judge waiting.”  
“Oh mama, I’m sure we will be able to call him Lord now that our sister is to be his wife, don’t you think so?” one of your sisters, Janet, chirped with a snicker and you rolled your eyes. But your mother seemed flustered and quite happy about that little idea.  
“Oh, we must ask the man after the wedding, come along now.” She ushered everyone out of the room except you. You were left alone, a marvellous bouquet of flowers in varying shades of green in your shaking hands and an agonizingly thudding heart in your chest. 

You waited. Prepared yourself to give up your free life and happiness for the sake of your family. Because that was the reason you eventually had reluctantly nodded in agreement to the wedding. Your father’s explanation regarding the financial state of your family that is. Broke, you were utterly broke. Since the Judge had asked for no dowry and no money for the wedding, housing, yearly payment or anything at all regarding monetary or materialistic things the offer was too sublime to pass up - for everyone else. For you, it was the fact that your father had asked you, he didn’t force you in the end. He had simply asked if you were willing to marry Judge Turpin for the sake of your family. You had agreed. Even if it felt as if something shattered within you to do so. 

The doors opened just as your eyes began to water behind the white veil of lace.  
“It’s time,” your mother said with a smile and you nodded. No words could be forced out of you as they would mean ruin for your family. So you held yourself together and only thought about allowing the words ‘I do’ to be spoken at the right time and nothing else. You tried to steady your breaths and trembling hands as you left the last piece of shelter before you were to be wed to the atrocious and volatile man, if one went by hearsay and the general publics view, that was Judge Turpin. 

You walked up the aisle, men, women and children rose on either side of you but you paid them no mind as your eyes focused on the spot where you were to stand. Right next to the man you did not want to look at for even a second more than you absolutely had to. But no matter how hard you tried to not see him, you caught glimpses of him even in your peripheral. His clothes were dark yet held details of green in the shades of the flowers in your hands. His coat hung down to his calves where it was met by knee-high boots of polished black leather with golden straps and details. He looked polished and important. Strong, unyielding. His hair grey and white, his face held strong features and made him look rather intimidating, _and perhaps a bit handsome-, no, no, no. He is_ not _handsome! He’s an old man marrying me for-, well I don’t know why but I’m marrying for security for my family and I’ll be damned to hell before I find a man like him handsome!_

Your hands hardened around the bouquet and you had to tense your jaw to keep your mouth shut. At the same time, you could hear your mother’s words fluttering about in your head like annoying wasps.  
_‘Dear, relax your face or you will gain wrinkles.’_ _  
__‘Dear, do not grit your teeth - you will destroy them.’_ _  
__‘Oh dear (y/n), do not slouch. Stand straight and tall!’_  
_‘Remember dear, no man loves a blabbering wife.’_ _  
__‘(Y/n), no man will whisk you away with romance.’_ _  
__‘Dear, do not frown, it is not befitting of a lady.’_

You stopped and turned, faced the man you were to marry. But you kept your head bowed, your gaze on the floor as silence filled the church. Then the priest spoke and all of a sudden a ring was slipped on your finger and you had said the two words needed. _Wait, what? I’m, I’m married? It is done? What happened? Did I blackout?_ As your mind rushed a warm hand grabbed yours and you jerked your head up only for your eyes to be caught in the depths of his grey ones. Harsh as steel. 

You gasped silently as his other hand removed the veil from your face. As he revealed your face to him fully, now as his wife. He released your hand and you grabbed on to the flowers to just do something with them.  
“You may kiss the bride,” said the priest and you stiffened as his harsh eyes darted down to your lips. _No, no I’m not ready!_ Your heart pounded as your eyes widened and your trembling hands nearly dropped the bouquet.  
“Lady Turpin,” he whispered with a gruffness to his voice unlike any you had never heard before in your life. His voice vibrated through you and it shook something deeply slumbering within you. But as he leaned in he changed his course and pecked you on your cheek but it would have looked like a kiss to the watchful crowd as he had placed his head in their field of vision.   
“When you are ready,” he whispered in your ear, “we shall kiss.” 

The pure feeling of gratefulness and relife filled you as his warm skin left yours. You looked up at him as he straightened. He really was quite tall. Broad shoulders and a slight curve to his waist. You lowered your gaze and as they travelled from his eyes to the floor you took an extra second to actually look at him as you had avoided it before. But before your eyes reached the tips of his shoes he spun you to face the applauding crowd and then the both of you walked back down the aisle. Your hammering heart and racing pulse were the only things you heard and felt; apart from the warmth his hand provided as it held yours gently and slightly raised. _Don’t drop the flowers, don’t drop the flowers, don’t drop the flowers_. Your mind chanted as your strained hand felt numb and your eyes watered when you realised you were now his. Forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of my first Turpin fic! :D <3 
> 
> There is not nearly enough Turpin fics. I have found like only 2(!) Turpin x Reader fics and that's just not okay. So here I am, writing one as a request came in just as I was thinking about writing about the lovely Judge :D This will be a SLOWBURN if you missed the tags so, yeah, patience my darlings ;) <3 (If you have ideas for tags to this story please tell me at any point through this fic.)
> 
>  **\+ a little side note:** My faithful laptop has taken the plunge into the deep dark abyss of dead technology. _Damn._  
>  So, I am currently trying to save money for a new laptop for my writing. Nothing fancy, just something functional, with a bit of quality so it lasts and feels good to write on. If you happen to have money to spare for a cup of coffee (2$) please do consider helping me out a bit on the way towards the goal of 380$ on [my Ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/plex6465) >.< <3


	2. To Get No Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Hi guys! Hope you're excited for chapter two of this fic and please do leave a comment if you want :D <3 Remember, if you are reading this while it is being published your comments have a chance of changing the story ;) One of the perks of reading something as it is being written - what you guys comment are taken into consideration and I more often than not manage to go in the direction my readers want ^^ 
> 
> Perhaps you saw the linked word for the wedding dress in the last chapter? Well, there is a new link here and there is no need for you to check since the clothes are described and you can imagine what you want but if you do want to see what I somewhat have in mind feel free to check the images ^^ Also, I'm only thinking in Sweeney Todd style and not really what matches the true fashion of 1830s London even if I do try to keep it at least a little bit in mind xD It is a Turpin fic set in the world of Sweeney Todd after all ;) 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! <3
> 
>  **ABBR:** | (Y/N) - Your Name |

* * *

The carriage came to a halt and a short man with rat-like features and blond hair with a hat atop his small head opened the door for Judge Turpin. For your husband. He stepped out with a sort of stiff grace and then turned towards you as he held his hand out. You gingerly placed your own in his and grabbed the heavy skirts of your dress before you climbed out of the carriage. Not nearly as graceful as he was. _At least I haven’t tripped on any of these damn skirts yet. And what is up with these heels?_ Your feet ached but you tried your hardest to simply smile, a tad tightly perhaps, at the Judge. 

“We shall redress and then rejoin the party at the Hall,” he stated with that dark voice that sounded as if he had just woken up and were hoarse from a night of- _no, no we are not travelling there_. You took a steadying breath and followed alongside him through heavy gates and into a rather large house at a busy street of London. As you walked your mind raced with all sorts of thoughts. None of them pleasant and none of them you wanted to linger on. Except one. One thought about how much freedom you still retained as his wife. Your freedom, to do things you enjoyed and wanted, was very important. But you dared not open your mouth to ask such a thing so closely after having been wed to the man. 

“Dear,” he said as he held the door open for you. You winched out of pure instinct as that word came from him as it had come from your mother time and time again. He stiffened, his brows knitted together as he slightly tilted his head with a jerk of his chin. He looked displeased.   
“I apologize, Judge Turpin,” you whispered as a blush crept up along your chest to your cheeks. _I already put a toe out of line, and we haven't even made it through the door yet._   
“Please, (y/n), call me Richard. We have married after all, no?” You blushed deeper, for whatever reason you could not quite fathom, yet nodded.  
“Richard,” you said on a shallow breath with the lowering of your gaze for an instant and he gave a smile. It was a tiny one, a tight one, but you had the feeling he was not a man that smiled regularly. _Perhaps his face isn't used to the exercise of those muscles?_ You wanted to chuckle at yourself but refrained, not knowing what the man would think. 

You stepped past him and entered the large house you were to call home henceforth. You wanted to shudder and hate it, but you couldn’t. It was a beautiful house. A bit dark, a bit gloomy, but still splendid in some unstated way. Nothing like that life you had come from yet it still didn't intimidate you. It merely folded itself around you. Your eyes wandered about to take in the deep colours and decorum. The dark furniture looked expensive yet seemed to be nearly neglected. There was dust here and there and some cobwebs. You found it a bit odd that a man as polished as Judge- no, Richard, didn’t keep his home pristine. 

“May I inquire, as to why the shunning at my adoration for you?” he said with a rumbling from the depths of his chest and you turned your head towards him where he stood by the closed door. You slowly turned your body after that as you clasped your hands in front of you. Not knowing what else to do with them as he looked so harshly, intensely, on you.  
“Mama-, I mean, my mother quite often use that term when she, well, isn’t too happy about something regarding me.” You tried your best to use a more polished language and it felt oddly uncomfortable to speak as if you were someone greater than yourself. Someone else. He arched a brow at you. He did so perfectly, as if he had mastered the art many years ago.   
“I see, I shall keep that in mind.” You nodded as your eyes avoided contact with his. His gaze was too intense, to harsh. It felt as if he nearly barrelled his way through you with those grey eyes of his. 

“Mrs Marsh shall show you to your rooms,” he said and as if the maid had heard him before he even uttered the words she was by your side. Her posture perfect, her clothes were immaculate and her face schooled into a stoic one with the harshness of age.  
“Lady Turpin,” Mrs Marsh said on a short nod and you nodded back at her, a bit more gently. _Wait, Lady? Oh my lord, I married an actual Lord so I am his Lady! Oh my, I hadn’t even-, this is just-, what do I do?_  
“I shall see you in a moment.” With those words, your husband disappeared and Mrs March lead you up a flight of stairs in your dazed state of confusion as to what, exactly, you had gotten yourself into. 

You walked a little behind her and then another flight of stairs were climbed and you walked through a grand hallway with red walls and dark wooden flooring covered by plush rugs before she opened a door for you. It was actually a wonder you had even noticed that much of the decorum as your mind still raced with wild thoughts that made you nervous and a bit scared in all honesty. Who were you to be a Lady? Who were you to take on such a high place in society? What were you going to do?   
“Here we are Lady Turpin,” she said and it effectively broke your train of thought.  
“Can’t you just call me (y/n)?” you whined on a small groan.  
“Certainly not, Lady Turpin.” Mrs Marsh nearly sneered at the suggestion.  
“Mrs Turpin then?” you pleaded a sweetly as you could.  
“Certainly not, Lady Turpin. In you go.” Her voice was harsh but not unpleasant, more that of a strict grandmother than anything else. You sighed and nodded in thanks for being shown to your room. 

A dress was already picked for you. It was placed on a dressing mannequin in the centre of the rather spacious room with a four-poster bed, a set of drawers, desk and chair, a bay window adorned with plush pillows for a comfortable place to sit and there was even a half-empty bookcase. You wanted to see what kinds of books there were but you resisted the urge. You gave yourself a moment to just take the space in though. You had shared a bedroom with Janet until she married and the room wasn’t grand in any way. A large bed and some drawers with a beauty-table by the window that held a mirror and what little nicknacks you owned. The room you were in now, it was so different and nothing like what you had imagined if the truth were to be told. 

You walked over to the [dress](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/5b/c2/51/5bc2516adcb0115db19f34b99d1f3a3b.jpg). Carefully, with hesitant movements, you lifted your hand and felt the fabric.   
“I shall return with help, Lady Turpin.” Mrs Marsh closed the door with a gentle click and you were left to your own devices. Your hand travelled across the soft fabric of the deeply purple dress with black details you were to be clad in for the actual wedding party, the reception. The party where all your friends and family, his friends and family, and probably a bunch of acquaintances and colleagues would gush over your newly tied bond in holy matrimony. 

You sighed and tears gently rolled down your cheeks as your hand fell down to your side, cushioned by the plush fabric of your wedding dress.  
“This is so wrong,” you whispered as you looked towards the window. On the other side of the glass life just went on as if you had not been caged by a man surely twice your age. How old was your husband even? You had no clue but you guessed about 50, maybe a little less. _I’ll have to ask Mrs Marsh…_

You barely had time to think of the maid's name before the door opened and she had returned with another woman, far younger, in tow.  
“Let’s get you redressed, Lady Turpin,” Mrs Marsh stated and you simply sighed with resignation as you wiped away the tears and blew out a harsh breath after that.  
“Let’s,” you answered and in a flurry of movements, the two maids started to get you out of your wedding dress (that was quite a feat actually) and then strapped you into the other dress with swift movements that were quite fast. _Have they done this before? Has Judge-, Richard, had a wife before?_ You found yourself quite startled by the idea as you truly did not know whom you had married in the slightest. 

“There we go, Lady Turpin.” You turned to look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes bulged a tad. You were beautiful. You weren’t you, you weren’t comfortable, but you were beautiful. Your hair up in an intricate design with pearls and gems that glittered. Your body strapped into a corset beneath the deeply purple fabric and with the help of the corset, your waist looked tiny as your hips were widened by the puffy underskirts. Your breasts were pushed up yet nearly hidden behind a black piece of dotted lace the stretched over the opening of the petticoat that nearly resembled a jacket. Modesty in a raging way one could say as you were fully covered yet something was utterly alluring about the whole thing. A choker with a glittering ruby was strapped around your throat, right above the collar of the petticoat, and just as beautiful rubies twinkled where they hung from your earlobes. 

_Gosh, I can’t breathe in this thing,_ you wined to yourself in your mind. You tried to move a little to soften the corset but Mrs Marsh and the other maid, who you now knew was called Ms Claire, had done a damn good job of tying it as tightly as it would go without breaking ribs or destroying your inner organs (hopefully at least). _Gosh, I hope I won’t need to wear these things every day._ Mrs Marsh ushered you out and back the same way you had come earlier as you tried to find a more comfortable way to breath. You did not manage that task. 

“Quite the sight.” You were startled by his gravelly, rumbling voice as you walked down the stairs to the entrance hall. You steadied yourself with a hand on the railing as he looked up at you. He was dressed in the same colours as you with a glittering ruby nailed to his ascot of pure black silk. As he reached his arm out to you glinting rubies could be seen in the small cufflinks he wore at the end of the sleeves of his rather long coat that had a deep purple colour to it with swirling patterns of black. You took the last steps needed to reach him, reluctantly and carefully. You weren’t ready to face him, weren’t ready to celebrate or pretend to be happy with your marriage. 

You had asked as many questions as you dared while being dressed. But Mrs Marsh had simply said, over and over, that you would have to ask the man himself. So you knew as much of him as his wife as you had done before ever having met him. The feeling was unsettling and you wondered if there was any chance the man would just die and leave you a wealthy widow to later find love and happiness on your own terms. Not once did the thought that he might have been a different man than you knew and possibly could make you happy in the future cross your mind. But you did scold yourself plenty for wishing death upon someone for your own benefit even if you really hadn’t actually meant it. It had only been a fleeting thought.

Richard was a fine man, in most senses of the word at least. Upstanding, rich, important, strong, fashionable, yes even handsome. He was all those things. You couldn’t deny it. But all the rumours you had heard, the horrible tales of Death’s Judge were not so easy to ignore. He had sentenced more people - children and adults - to death than any other in the whole of England. His prosecutions were rumoured to be unjust and harsh to the extent of being truly cruel. How could you possibly be comfortable being his wife? Being close to him? _Wait, does he expect children?!_ You pushed the thought away as you gingerly grabbed his arm and rested your hand close to his wrist. All while you tried to push out all the romantic, sensual ideas and dreams you had gotten from reading far too many books. Too many fantasies of fairytale love. 

Richard smiled down at you with a tender yet hesitant look in his eyes. You tried your darndest to smile back at him, you did not want to be rude or anger him as you had no idea how the man reacted to being provoked. _This is madness, bonkers, nonsense - why have I married this man? For my family, keep it in mind, you married for your family and you shall not, what was it mama said? Put a toe out of line regarding Richard… I can do this. I have to do this._

“Shall we?” he asked on a drawl and you nodded as you raised the corners of your mouth a little further up. At least at the party you could be around people and maybe get some space from your new husband. Some time to think, to adjust, possibly get your sisters to loosen the damn corset so you could at least breath without feeling like your chest was being crushed beneath a horse. At least that would give you some relief. But you had no more time to think as Richard led you out of the house and into an awaiting carriage. You were off towards the Hall and what would hopefully be a not too horrible time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Apparently, Judge Turpin is not as popular to read about as one might think. I've seen so many posts on Tumblr about how few fic's there are about him and there should be more (especially xReader) but no wonder there are no fics if they're not popular xD I mean, sure, I write mostly for my own enjoyment but it's way, _way_ more fun to write when there is an actual response to it. :P 
> 
> But I'll be writing this one anyway as it was a request from my darling Ellie ([@mickmarstookmyheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickmarstookmyheart/profile)) and the world really needs more Judge Turpin fics if you ask me. Can't have too many goodies in the world ;) <3


	3. Shall We Dance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** I hope you're enjoying the story and are hungry for more! I had quite a bit of fun with this chapter as I explored different standards and norms from what I usually write with since this is set in the early 1800s (still Sweeney Todd 1800s so xD) and I'm STRUGGLING to do a slowburn. Wow, like, this shit is hard O.O I'm not used to slowburns but I am trying my best. Had to edit out a bunch of stuff that just felt to forward as we are just in chapter 3 and I do have a plan/plot in mind that I would like to try and stick to xD (I think most writers reading this are cackling by now since we all know a plot never frikkin lasts and it always turns out to be something completely different int eh end - but I will try! xD ) 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! <3
> 
>  **ABBR.:** | Y/N - Your Name |

“Oh, my sweet (y/n)! There you are, so beautiful!” Your mother gushed over you as you had arrived with Richard a moment earlier. You were still a bit baffled with the grandness of everything so you had barely noticed when your family had come over - all dressed in their finest.  
“And Judge Turpin, I can see you waste no effort in spoiling your wife,” she continued as her happy eyes moved from you to your husband. Richard nodded, his face stoic and void of emotions as everyone around you talked, laughed and gushed about what a beautiful wedding and reception you had. You agreed with them but weren’t as happy as they all seemed to be about your wedding. But you did have to admit that your new husband did splurge on the occasion. How you felt about that you weren't sure. _Surely this money could do good for so many people if spent in a better way..._

“Judge Turpin,” your father said and raised his glass ever so slightly, “I must say you have quite the group of friends.” At those words, you looked around to actually see who had come to the celebration and indeed, Richard’s friends were all rich, notable men and their wives were as pretty as could be. _I wonder if they can breathe? Is that something you learn?_ The thought was unnerving. For a moment you pondered how on earth the women could stand for such horribly uncomfortable clothes. Sure, you had worn corsets multiple times but they were softer, not made with wires sewn in and certainly not cinched to the point it felt as if you would break.  
“I do,” Richard said without a flicker of doubt about the power his circle held in London. Your mother piped up at that, asked him if they were allowed to address him as Lord rather than Judge now that they were family.

You inwardly cringed at her beaming eyes that were directed straight at your husband with such a visible hunger it made you want to groan. But Richard seemed unfazed by the look. His face remained harsh and closed off, no etching of a smile or gentling of his features visible.   
“I see no reason as to why that would not be proper.” His words were harsh yet he had agreed and your mother nearly bounced in place. Those beady little eyes nearly twinkled and you wanted to groan again at her apparent joy for something as simple as a title.   
“Lord,” your mother murmured squeakily, “my daughter is married to a Lord and Judge, _my my my_ ,” she continued in a hushed voice. Richard merely arched a brow and excused himself before he walked over to a group of men brandishing glasses of golden liquid. Well, almost at least. He did give you a sideways glance the second before he left and you were not quite sure what to make of the slightly warmer shade of his grey eyes for that single little moment. _Probably, most likely, just the light in here._

The moment he left the atmosphere changed. Your sisters dragged you away to a corner of the room with excited eyes. You were both happy and dreadful at their looks.  
“So, is he nice? Rich as can be?” Janet asked with a wicked smile.  
“How many servants? Do you have your own servant? Oh, what about the sleeping arrangement?” Eliza asked.  
“I want to know about the dresses!” Anne piped up and Dorothy simply smiled at you. The youngest of all the sisters was seemingly the one most worried about _you_ rather than your new husband and what came with him. Riches, servants, titles and a heap of unknown responsibilities you were not too eager to deal with in all honesty. 

You tried to calm them down as best you could yet you avoided answering the questions thoroughly. You simply said, “Yes he’s very rich and I have my own room, apparently death traps for clothes are a must and I don’t know if he’s nice or not. I’ve barely talked to the man.” The words were rambled out in a hushed voice as you didn’t want others to hear what you were saying. But you could not escape the fact that your stomach knotted at the fact you actually, truly, did not know the man who was your husband.   
“Are you happy?” Dorothy asked as she leaned forward, you gave her a smile but you weren’t quite sure how to answer such a question without hurting her feelings.  
“I, don’t know yet,” you settled for and she nodded, her eyes looked as if she was deep in thought. 

Janet tugged at your hand.  
“Well, you have to write and tell us everything. You’re an important Lady now (y/n),” she stated with a wide grin as if your new status was all that mattered. _Well, she did marry for wealth and comfort…_ Her husband, Mr Andrew Wellton, was well off in the world and had quite a profitable business going and he had been ensnared by Janet’s beauty and outgoing personality (that she adapted to be quite charming when needed mind you). You were happy for her but the fact that she was such a materialistic and status-obsessed person, much like your mother, made her so different from you.  
“I will write,” you promised, “but can, can you help me a bit first?” you asked hesitantly and Janet nodded eagerly.  
“Can you loosen this corset, I can’t breath,” you whispered and your sisters looked shocked.  
“Absolutely not, look at the important ladies here, they all wear dresses like yours and they seem fine and you should really adapt to it,” Janet stated with a horrified look aimed at you. _Well, you can breathe, easy for you to say._ You sighed breathlessly but no matter how you pleaded they wouldn’t help you. What Janet said went, it had always been like that. One would think she was the oldest when it in fact was you. 

The musicians played beautifully as people danced about the large room. You had been mostly silent as dinner was consumed and speeches were made with toasts and congratulations. You had bowed your head, nodded, smiled and tried your best to be respectable but throughout it all, you were as uncomfortable as could be. The dress was too tight, you felt constantly dizzy from the lack of air in your lungs and you felt as if your life had somehow ended as you were now a wife to someone you didn’t know or even cared for. You didn't know the people in the room, had no friends or contacts in London, your whole future was just a big blank as you had no idea what was to come or what was your role in the new life you had been forced into. _Mama is happy, pap is happy, everyone seemed happy. I'll suck it up. Do my best, maybe it won't be horrible and miserable-, oh who am I kidding? How is my life supposed to be anything but horrible and miserable married to this man?_ But a little voice whispered in your head to not judge too harshly, too quickly. You shut that voice down as it had no business being in your head at the present time.

Richard seemed as if it wasn’t even his wedding, or him that all people sought to speak with. As if he were a mere guest at someone else’s party. He did not actively hold conversations and people were nearly forced to carry every single conversation alone as he simply stated a few words here and there. He didn’t smile, he didn’t laugh or joke. A stoic, cold, far-off presence with a wall around him that seemed to manifest in actual physical distance. Nobody dared touch him or stand closer than two steps. No shoulder rubbing or anything like that despite the room being quite packed. You were the exception in the moments you stood next to him. The air shifted around him to accommodate for you and it felt oddly safe to approach him. He glanced at you more often than not, both when you stood next to hi or were in another part of the room, and you tried your best to smile and be a pleasant company for all even if you felt as if the world swayed beneath your feet in more senses than one. 

Most of the conversations went way over your head as Richard spoke with other men. Politics, financials, Lordships, war, voyages and whatnot. The women were worse. You had tried to speak with them, befriend them perhaps but, their choices of topics didn’t interest you in the slightest. Frankly, they appalled you. Who had married who, who was playing around on the side, who were richest and who had been shunned. Rumours, horrible rumours and gossip. You couldn’t stand it. Yo had never been able to participate in such talk and you never wanted to. Perhaps that was why you had few friends, you were a bit out of place in society and more often lived in your own little world with art of all kinds. You were more comfortable in the silence of your own company basically. Your family was the exception of course, but not at all times. You found strength in your solitude and had grown quite comfortable in the freedom of being on your own. _Not anymore though..._

You finished your fourth glass of wine in some form of seclusion. Richard had been speaking to other judges and a few lawyers for a while and you had taken the opportunity to slip away from the centre of attention and had simply watched your sisters with their husbands dance around the room. They looked happy as you watched them sway all around the place in varying movements. Some couples were more fluent than others, some more relaxed than others and some seemed as if they didn’t care how they danced. Your sisters fit into all of those categories and it made you smile softly. They were happy and if you could find some form of that happiness in your own life you would have to be content with that you supposed. One had married for love, the others for security and comfort. You had been married off to Richard with the idea that you would be provided for and your family would not have to pay a cent for the whole thing (that was quite important as they were, apparently, broke from previous doweries and yearly expenses). 

You tried to sigh but there wasn't enough air in your lungs to fully do so. Your eyes lingered on your Eliza and her husband Mr Dean Danefield. Eliza and you were similar, not quite alike but close. She had dreams of love as well but had been married without it. _At least Dean had courted her for three months before he asked papa for her hand, at least they knew each other before-_ Richard stood beside you in the next moment, his presence was imposing and cut your thoughts short. His back straight, his head held high yet his face was stoic, harsh even. He was a proud man, Judge and Lord Richard Turpin, and you actually found that to be a good quality in a man who deserved it. He did. You couldn’t deny that even if his ways were cruel and cold - or at least that was what you had heard - he still had the right to claim pride for his achievements and status. 

“Shall we dance?” he asked and you nearly dropped the empty glass as his low voice rumbled and rippled through the air around you. You looked up at him, you had to crane your neck a tad as he stood so close to you and was a head or so taller despite your heels.   
“Dance? You dance?” you asked gently, a bit surprised by that fact. He arched a brow at you and nodded.  
“Indeed I do. Every man should be capable of such activities as dancing with his significant other," he stated flatly yet ardently, with intent and honesty, "Shall we, wife of mine?” He reached out his arm and you took it nearly from pure instinct drilled into you by your mother over the years - ' _if a man asks to dance you oblige dear_ ' - before he led you onto the dance floor. The music shifted and a lightly toned yet heavy song drifted from the musicians as you took the floor along with the other couples. 

He held you firmly, securely. His movements were fluid and graceful as he led you around the room in a gentle dance that was easy for you to follow as you had practised dancing as most young girls did while growing up. But never in any depth even if you knew quite a few dances thoroughly in their steps you weren't fluid or well versed in the art. Perhaps Richard was just great at leading, you weren’t quite sure as dancing wasn’t really your forte despite all the practice, nor had you had any true practice of the artform in form of actual lessons. Just your mother as a teacher and your sisters (occasionally your father) as partners. But you danced beautifully with him. Lead by him. 

Even if you danced so well and he was modest in the way he held you it felt too close. You were too close to him and it made your heart pound. You wanted to release him and walk away but you also knew you couldn’t do that. He was your husband and all were there to see the two of you become a true pair. To leave him on the dancefloor would be much more than putting a toe out of line. So you bit your lip and tried to focus on breathing and not stepping on his toes as he swirled you around. 

People watched with wide smiles, arched brows, curious eyes and many more fuzzy expressions as you danced. Whispers of age, of money and wealth travelled through the air but didn’t quite reach you. Harsh words of gold digging and financial aid crept up in their wake as people judged you in near silence. But everyone smiled and clapped their hands. You were surrounded by wealth, yet the people in the room were in fact quite poor. They had nothing but their financials and gossip, nothing but their titles and beauty. Yet you had not quite figured out what an utter scandal it was for a man like Lord Turpin, Judge Turpin, your husband Richard, to marry a woman such as yourself. You had not figured it out yet, but it would dawn on you eventually what a risk Richard had taken by marrying little you from such a lowly family without wealth or connections. 

The music shifted again and you felt dizzier than ever. Your heart pounded, your cheeks were flushed from the swift movements and alcohol, the temperature in the room that grew ever warmer as well. You nearly panted as Richard stopped in the middle of the dancefloor when the music shifted. He bowed deeply and kissed your hand gently with warm, thin lips as you tried to quench your need to gasp for air so as not to embarrass either of you. You weren’t unfit, it was the darn dress. 

“Thank you, (y/n).” You nodded with a small smile at him as his voice vibrated through you. You would hopefully grow accustomed to the sound of him at some point for it did silly things with you that you weren’t quite ready to admit, or didn’t want to admit, or couldn't admit. His voice made a mess of your senses and your body reacted to it in a way it really shouldn't have, in a way you had not had a clue a body could respond to a sound as simple as an utterance of words by a rumbling voice.  
“Thank you for leading me,” you whispered as you tried to push air down into your compressed lungs and quench the throbbing that drummed through you silently.   
“I shall endeavour to do so at all times,” he stated firmly with the tiniest of glint to his eyes. You weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not. You had never wanted to be led, you wanted to be free of reins and live your life as you pleased. But there was something in you that fought the notion of freedom a tiny tad as he spoke and you wanted to snuff it out as quickly as possible. 

Richard straightened and let go of your hand as a man called for him a little ways away from the dance floor. He was obviously not happy about being called for but he left you to join the men on the other side either way. As soon as he was far enough from you to be unable to hear you you gasped and tried something fiercely to force air into your lungs in desperate attempts at heaving. You could truly not breathe and moving about in a dance had made it all worse. Had forced you to balance on the edge. You needed air.

You wobbled a bit as the dizziness grew, black fog misted the peripheral of your vision as you staggered off the dance floor towards the door that would lead you out of the warm room with too many people in it. You fumbled and held your hand against your ribcage beneath your breasts as you desperately tried to get out. Find air, cold and fresh air. 

You grabbed for the handles of the door and yanked them open as you heard Dorothy say your name beside you in her light tone.  
“Air,” you painfully huffed out as you tried to hold on to your consciousness. You didn’t want to pass out among so many people and embarrass everyone. embarrass yourself, your family, Richard even. All the other women were fine while you felt as if you were dying. Being suffocated. Tormented and caged by the stupid, fancy, beautiful dress that snagged around your feet as you stumbled out into the hallway and then everything just disappeared. 

Your eyes fogged over with darkness, your knees buckled as you lost your balance. You crumbled and fell towards the floor in a flurry of purple fabric. The only thing you heard before your body landed was Dorothy's scream of your name. You were gone before your head had hit the hard marble floor beneath. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I hope you're excited for more after this chapter, please feel free to comment. It makes me so happy to hear your thoughts! Even if its just a 'WAAAAHHH' or a few scarcely coherent words xD Your feedback matters a lot - and if you are reading as this is being written your feedback can impact the story itself! Remember that ;) <3 
> 
> Thank you for reading so far and I hope I'll keep seeing you all through this story! <3


	4. Nightmarish Memories [Turpin's POV]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Hi lovelies! This is sort of a bonus chapter yet its not really xD I wanted to write from Turpin's POV for a chapter to give some depth and just a quick retelling of the Sweeney Todd story behind him (sending Benjamin away, falling for Lucy, courting her, losing her etc) just to give a quick reminder and set the premises for the story a little bit. It also gives a bit of insight into Turpin as a character which I really like. I hope you'll enjoy it! :D 
> 
> **WARNING:** There are mentions of suicide and death in this chapter (you all know what happened to Lucy even if she did not die canonically she does so in this story as I mentioned in the beginning). _This will be the only warning from here on out for death/suicide._
> 
>  **ABBR.:** | Y/N - Your Name |

He looked around, his eyes steely and harsh as he scanned the room. Searched for you. The men around him laughed forcibly and talked about something that he paid no attention to. It was trivial to him. He couldn’t find you. Couldn’t see you among your family, with the other women, on the dancefloor or by the bar. His brows knitted as his body tensed ever so slightly, _where are you, love?_

“Isn’t that so Judge Turpin?” His eyes re-focused on the slender man to his left as he had uttered his name. _What the blundering hell are they blabbering on about now?_  
“I couldn’t say as your conversation failed to hold my attention,” he stated harshly with a cold tediousness to his face as his mind was still tethered to you and your whereabouts. He wanted to find you, have you beside him, keep you within arms reach. He had wanted that ever since he laid eyes on you for the first time nearly a year ago but it had taken quite some time to locate you. To his dismay. Silence fell around him as his honesty paired with the harshness garnered a few tapping fingers against glas in awkwardness and rocking on heels with a discomforted tinge. 

Richard paid it no mind. He had a reputation for being harsh, cold. His demeanour had not always been like that. A few years ago he had been quite the, well, no he had never been gentle or very pleasant - not even as a child - but he had not been cruel or cold at least. He had always been a bit different, a bit harsh and a bit distant. Curious about the world, but in a different way than others were. But he had always managed to play the part of society to rise in rank and tie connections. That all changed when he lost the one thing he had yearn desperately for in a romantic way for the first time in his life. Not just in a sexual sense, it had been more than that. A married woman, a married woman with a child together with a simple barber. A man not worthy of her in any way had garnered his attention with viciousness. 

He had crumbled before her beauty and caved for temptation. With his status, his titles and society behind him he had banished the barber on false pretences to sway the beauty to be with him. To take her security away and win her hand in marriage, with the hope of winning her love and adoration as well. He had courted her, sent flowers and letters. Had sent money and food, clothes and invitations. Had waited outside her home, sent the Beadle to help her with whatever she needed but she had refused all the gifts and approaches. Refused it all, refused him. Time and time again. He had given her space at that point. Waited a week to contact her again and when he did so, in person one late Thursday afternoon as dusk was colouring the sky in orange and pink, he had found her lifeless body on the floor. His heart had been shredded. 

The only thing that kept him from collapsing completely was the wailing baby in a crib. But she looked just like her mother with her little golden locks, her pale skin and little nose. He had not been able to stand it. The beadle had been ordered to send the child away and arrange the funeral for Lucy. He had not attended. Had not even visited her grave. Thoughts of guilt weighed him down so heavily it felt as if his body had been covered in chains and his lungs filled with blood that nearly suffocated him on each breath. He had done that to her. He had driven her to the edge and then pushed her over. She had killed herself because of his selfish acts. Because of his love. It killed some part of him. Obliterated the last little light and plummeted his world into utter darkness that turned him into the cold and cruel person he never wanted to be. That he had already been but had fought against. 

The man cleared his throat and Richard lurched back into reality. Away from the nightmare memories as the man coughed before he spoke a tad louder, “I was saying-”  
“ _(Y/N)!_ ” Richards head snapped up and instantly focused on the sound of your name being screamed out by a shrill voice of horror. A wave of icy coldness crashed over him at the fear in the voice that screamed your name. In an instant his long legs were moving, his tumbler of brandy hit the floor with a splintering crash as he had simply let it go in his rush to get to you, find you, discarding all other things at that moment. He surged through the crowd that was moving towards the open door at the other end of the room. His heart hammered. His legs moved faster, moved into a sprint that made his knee-high boots pound the marble floor beneath.  
“ _MOVE!_ ” he bellowed as a few people ambled in front of him, they were looking for the source of the sound as well - with curiosity. They scattered instantly at his tone. 

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)! Wake up,” the shrill voice said as he finally reached the damned door. He froze for a second, only a second, as he saw your pale face and motionless body sprawled across the floor in a sea of purple. Sprawled across the floor just as Lucy had been when arsenic took her life years ago.  
“MOVE!” he bellowed harshly again and the young girl, that he recalled was your youngest sister, scrambled away as he kneeled swiftly by your side with worry etched all over his face as his heart pounded against his ribcage with furious hits. He touched your face as the crowd drew closer with twinkling eyes of nosiness and interest for the scene. But he couldn’t pay them any mind as he was focused solely on you and your motionless state. 

“(Y/n)!” another shrill voice sounded out and he didn’t have to look up to know your mother was the one speaking before she scrambled to your side as well.  
“She couldn’t breathe,” the sister said with a sobbing voice and his fear intensified as he held his fingers in front of your nose and mouth. _No air, she’s not breathing, she’s- she’s- she’s-,_ but he couldn’t finish the thought as nightmare-like memories flooded his mind again. How he had found Lucy breathless, motionless, lifeless on the floor without any hope of revival.  
“She couldn’t breath-,” the sister sobbed again and instincts kicked in as realisation dawned on him when his eyes saw the dress your mother wore. No wired corset would allow for such free movements of bending as she did by your other side. _The corset! The damn corset!_

He surged his hands beneath the outer bodice, steered his large hands to your back as he lifted you halfway up, your head lulled from side to side as your lips were turning blue. The sight made his stomach churn with worry in a nauseating way. Gasps were heard at his intimate motions in the presence of curious eyes but he couldn’t care less about the rumors that would surely spread afterwards. He found the lacing of the corset as he held you up with one arm and tugged on the strings with the other. _Please, dear God, I beg of you!_ His mind was frantic as he tugged and tugged and tugged to loosen the damn corset that was suffocating you, killing you. 

“ _Damn it,_ ” he growled through clenched teeth as his movements turned harsher, faster. He managed to slip his fingers between the strings and wrap them around one of the sides of the corset. He tugged with force at the wired fabric his hand grasped, your body jerked with his motion, and the string glided through the holes with a soft sound. You gasped loudly as your body jolted to life again in that very instant when the constraint had been removed. Relief flooded him in such a rush he had to use every bit of his self control not to lunge at you fully wanting to hold and kiss you desperately. It took everything not to cry, not to caress you, crumble before you as your lips turned pink and you breathed deeply as he held you half upright, sprawled on the marble floor before too many eyes. He could not show his care so freely. He could not be so free in the eyes of society. He was forced, by them, to remain where he was despite it nearly bending him with the agony of restraint.

He held one arm under your back and one beneath your head as you breathed for a few moments. Your chest heaved a few times before your eyes fluttered open and met his after a confused gliding around. His mind spun ferociously with fear, dread, relief and joy that you were alive and well, that you were still with him. Until he met your clear gaze. Pain slashed through him as he saw none of the emotions he held for you returned in that gaze. There was nothing there for him to hold on to, to linger on or grasp. He was a stranger in your eyes and the pain that clawed inside of him was horrendous. But he remained, still and stiff. Not wanting to move or let go despite the lack of emotion in your gaze. Despite it all. He could not let you go even if you were not his to hold on to from the beginning. _Did I do it again..? Is my love-, is that what my love is? Unwanted and painful, deadly?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :D I had lots of fun exploring Turpin a little deeper and giving some more info on him and hopefully you found this chapter rewarding to read despite it being (or because it's) in Turpins POV and not yours ;) <3 
> 
> Please do leave a comment if you want to! It means a lot to me to hear what you think/feel/experience/want/wish etc while reading ^^ Thank you for reading! <3


	5. Painful Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Gosh, this chapter was hard to write but I think it turned out okay in the end. We are finally starting to understand that there is more to our dear Judge than we had thought - unfortunately, that makes us just way more confused xD
> 
> If you are interested in seeing what Mrs Marsh and Ms Claire is wearing (in my head at least as I haven't really described them at all - they are for you to imagine however you want) you can check Mrs Marsh's dress [here](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/cb/b3/d5/cbb3d53619436253bd7a3031b7517631.jpg) and Ms Claire's dress [here](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/bb/79/85/bb7985ff3be6b053c2f9445c7074673e.jpg)! :D 
> 
> **ABBR.:** | Y/N - Your Name |

It had been six days. Six cold, lonely days since the wedding. Since you became the wife of a stranger, became Lady Turpin and were literally knocked unconscious by the new life you were to live. Dusk had settled hours ago, you twisted and turned in the vast bed you felt was too cold. You had not been able to do more than glimpse your husband the last six days yet his eyes had haunted your wakeful and dreaming hours. All hours of the day and night. Claimed your mind and thoughts acutely. What, exactly, had it been you had witnessed in his grey, harsh eyes for such a tiny little moment? 

When you had awoken in his arms, sprawled on the marble floor and panting for air, you had nearly choked on the oxygen that you were heaving. His eyes were cut open and swirled with desperate emotions you had never seen in another human. Ever. Emotions you had read about in romance novels. Emotions that were considered folly to long for, that were seen as silly imaginations of foolishness in a hopeless reality void of such intensity. Such ardency and depth. Passion and yearning on a different plane of existence. His eyes had showered you in such emotions; you had been shocked into a state you had never experienced before. Your mind had actually gone blank. Not even an echo of a thought or a notion of emotion were available to you as he poured out his own without moving or uttering a single word. 

You had blinked and angled your head ever so slightly, after that his eyes were shut once more. No more than a gentle caress of steel instead of the cascading rainstorm of feelings you had swirled in for a few short seconds. His body had stiffened and there had been a small wall between the two of you that you could not explain. But it was the look in his eyes that had baffled you the most. _What was it? Why was it there? I don’t understand. I, I don’t understand anything. And why is he hiding?_ You sighed deeply and groaned before you kicked off the heavy cover that should have kept you plenty warm despite it being late autumn. Yet, it didn’t.  
“ _Damn,_ ” you whispered as your mind simply wouldn’t release the image of those eyes or the pondering thoughts about what they had meant. 

You vacated the bed and grabbed your silky smooth robe that reached all the way down to the floor. It tickled as the fabric brushed against the top of your feet, in a good way though. You walked over to the bay window with the plush pillows and sunk down. Outside the candles in the lamp posts flickered and glowed to illuminate the cobblestoned street that shined from the afternoons splattering of rain. The stone glistened like silver as the moon peeked through the heavy clouds. Condensation ran down the glass that separated you from the world and you let your eyes follow one drop after the other. The next thing you knew, you were crying. Your emotions rattled you as it was a combination of so many things. But what hurt the most was his dismissal of you without even having given you a chance. You were married, for several days now, and you knew him no better than when you were screaming at your parents several weeks ago that you would not marry him. 

You clasped your hand over your mouth to quell the sobs and remain as silent as possible in the dark of the night. You were lonely beyond belief. You had always had your parents, the maid and the cook, the farmers next door and your sisters. You had never gone more than a day without some form of company even after all your sisters had been wed. You missed them, your family a four-hour carriage ride away that seemed insurmountable. As Richard had avoided you completely since the wedding, Mrs Marsh was busy with the household and didn’t care for idle chit chat, Ms Claire only smiled and shied away if you even attempted to talk to her. You were effectively on your own. _I know I wanted freedom but this is, not what I had in mind. And what I do have on my mind is just, him…_ Why he had taken over so completely you couldn't exactly say. There was just something, or quite a few things actually, about him that pulled at something within you. Pulled in a place within the chambers of your heart that you had not known existed earlier. 

A sigh escaped you as you thought about your circumstances for a short moment. You had barely left the house as you had no knowledge of London. Nor had you any friends or family in the city to show you around. You had attempted, once, to go with Mrs Marsh for grocery shopping but the woman had only ushered you back into the house with an appalled look on her face paired with a few harsh words about being a Lady. Richard went to work before you woke up and came home past supper time. He locked himself in the study or his bedroom as soon as he arrived. You didn’t understand it, at all. Had it not been he who proposed? Who pursued you? Who had married you without having ever met you? Why was he hiding and avoiding you, leaving you to your own isolation in such a manner? _It has to be that damn look he had, there’s-, I don’t know but-, that’s precisely it! I don’t know and I don’t understand that damn look._

You sighed as frustration raked through you. The hand you had held clasped over your mouth hastily rubbed away the tears from your cheeks and chin as you tried to collect yourself. You wanted to know him, at least be civil with him. What you really wanted though, was for him to turn out to be nothing like the rumours spread about him. That you had not married a cruel and horrible man who was known as Death's Judge. At the moment, he was turning out to be more of a ghost than anything. You sighed and closed your eyes, tilted your head back to just breath for a moment. Calm yourself for a little while. You took a deep breath and exhaled as you straightened your head and opened your eyes to stare out through the window once more. And there he stood. A few steps away from the gate as if he was pondering whether to come inside or not.

Moonlight showered him in white light that made what was visible of his grey hair shine gently. His pale skin nearly glowed against the black, thick coat he wore paired with a sophisticated hat and a deeply green scarf around his neck. The only reason you knew it was green through the night's darkness was because you had seen it when he had left for work just as you woke up and looked out the window hours upon hours earlier. You could not stop looking at him as you wiped your cheeks again. Your heart thudded in your chest and that deep, hidden place within you warmed at the sight of him yet at the same time something ached in the very same place. _Didn’t he come home this evening?_

Then he moved, towards the gate and you hesitated for a mere moment before you left the bay window and opened your bedroom door. You heard him from downstairs. With a fast motion of your hands, you cinched the sash of the robe around you and patted out of the room as quietly as you could. The first flight of stairs you took in a bit of a hurry but then you were stood at the second flight of stairs that would lead you to the entrance, you stopped right at the corner where the wall ended and shielded you from view as his voice rumbled up towards you when he greeted Mrs Marsh. You actually missed his voice. Just a little bit. It was so unique and wonderfully deep in all honesty. It was a thundering, growling sound that you had never heard the likes of before.

You held your breath as you listened in, despite knowing it was a graceless thing to do.  
“Has she eaten?” His voice was clipped and harsh yet a streak of something softer vibrated beneath the words.   
“Yes, Lord Turpin.” That was Mrs Marsh’s voice paired with the rustling of fabric as she most likely took his coat.  
“Left her room?”  
“Barely,” Mrs Marsh answered in a lower tone. You crouched to the floor and dared to peek around the wall. You saw his profile, he looked grim and stark. Harsh. Yet your heart warmed a little at his concern for you. Clearly, he hadn’t discarded you completely. Your mother's words rang through your head, ‘ _Mark my words, if you put a toe out of line regarding such a fine man as he, we will disown you!_ ’ Had you perhaps done something wrong? Without knowing? Surely it couldn’t be because you fainted, _that wasn’t even my fault! That was the damn dress he had me in!_

“Does she, is she-” You heard him rumble in a muttering voice and it interrupted your thoughts.  
“Does Lady Turpin what, my Lord?”  
“Has she said anything regarding me?”  
“Lady Turpin asked when you would be back this afternoon, I relayed that I did not know. Other than that, no my Lord.” Richard sighed and he looked tense, or something like that. You weren’t quite sure as you didn’t know him well enough to understand his body language. Or the purpose of the expression he wore over his face. It was grim, yes, but there was more there as well. You just weren't quite sure what.  
“Is she asleep?”  
“For hours, my Lord,” Mrs Marsh answered and it sounded as if she smiled but you were again not quite sure.  
“Good, that's good.” You nearly sighed but caught yourself right before. It would have echoed down and you would have been caught eavesdropping.  
“I will be travelling this weekend, make sure she is satisfied and well cared for Mrs Marsh.”  
“Where are you travelling, my Lord? Shall I pack for you, sir?”   
“No need, it’s a personal trip so I shall pack myself.” You shivered as you listened to his voice and could not help but feel excluded. He would be away for the weekend and he hadn't uttered a word to you about it. You were his wife, whom he had married six days ago, no?  
“Very well, my Lord. Shall I bring you supper?” Richard just waved his hand and Mrs Marsh bid him good night. You barely had time to scramble away before he started up the stairs. 

You ran as silently as you could with your bare feet against the plush rugs back to your own room and dove under the covers. Why? No idea. You felt like hiding, hiding so he would not know you had been listening to a private conversation, even if it were mostly about you. The hammering sound that drummed in your ears came from your heart as you heard his muted steps in the hallway. You tried to calm your breathing, stay still, to not make a sound. It was a difficult thing to do when you wanted to ask him so many things and he was right outside on his way to his own bedroom. 

His steps stopped right outside your door and you shut your eyes instantly. Insane thoughts ran through your mind about what would happen if he dared to step inside but you also knew that none of those thoughts or ideas had any validity to them. He had treated you like a Lady, with gentleness and he had not even forced a kiss from you as you married. You had no reason to believe he would do anything horrendous, or lovely, to you. That didn't stop your mind from spinning though, _I've read too many books, too many books!_ The knob of the door twisted which interrupted your frantic mind and a moment later the door was silently opened. You felt his presence as if it were a storm brewing by the horizon. Felt his eyes glide over your covered form. He remained at the door, he silently watched you and you did not know what to do. Should you turn and look at him? Remain still and allow him to believe you were in fact sleeping? _I should be sleeping so I-_ Your thoughts were interrupted yet again as you heard him step inside. You tensed beneath the covers. 

“I am sorry,” he whispered and you nearly jolted as his voice came from so close to your ear. You could not help the little twitch your body made in response. His warm hand stroked away a tendril of hair from your cheek and you wanted desperately to jolt away, yet at the same time it felt wonderful. It was so strange, how the feelings battled within you. You could not deny that he had been on your mind constantly since the fainting incident. Since you were buried beneath all the emotions that had been showering you from his grey eyes. Eyes that seemed so unyielding and harsh yet they had been cut open when you had peered into them.  
“So sorry, love,” he whispered and then he abruptly left. 

You laid there. Your heart hammered in your chest as your cheek burned from his touch. _What in the-, love? What? What is he sorry for? I-, gosh I don’t understand!_ It took you a mere second to decide. A mere blink and then the covers were yet again thrown away from your body and you rushed towards the door to catch him, talk to him, ask him what was going on - ask him all the questions that dwelled in your mind and made you feel out of place and uncertain about everything. You needed answers, needed to hear from him what was happening and why he acted as he did. What had been visible in his eyes for that little moment and why he had been avoiding you so fiercely.

You pulled open the door and launched yourself out of the room just as his door locked a little way down the red hallway. You debated with yourself for about half a minute before you pushed on, towards his door. Your steps were a bit hesitant and your mind was a mess but you got there after a few steps. You raised your hand and after a slight hesitation and a deep breath you knocked - lightly. It took a moment but then the lock clicked and the knob twisted before you saw a sliver of his face through the crack of the door he had opened. Your heart hammered a little harder as his eyes hardened when he saw you. But not before you had seen a glimpse of those storming emotions you had seen six days ago. That little place in your heart shuddered and grew, opened up a bit more as it warmed ever so slightly from that little glimpse of him.   
“(Y/n)? Everything alright?” he asked, that rumbling voice yet again wreaked havoc with your body in a way it should not have, that it had no business doing.  
“No,” you stated faintly as your courage failed you. What were you going to say? Do? _Oh, I am foolish! I shouldn’t have left my damn room! Maybe he always works like this? How would I know? Maybe he's never at home and I'll just have to deal with that..? Maybe nothing he has done has anything to do with me? I'm, I'm a bit arrogant thinking what he does has anything to do with me... I'm foolish._

“I-, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you.” Your cheeks heated and you felt a blush that crept across your chest as you hastily turned to leave. His warm hand grabbed your wrist, a tad too harshly perhaps but his grip eased the moment he had his long, strong fingers wrapped around you securely. You turned your head only to see him, all of him, bathed in a soft glow from candles behind him now that his door was nearly fully opened. He wore only a darkly green robe of velvet that reached down to the middle of his calves. His face was hard, taunt and stoic. You took a breath as his features looked more prominent with the dancing shadows that mingled about as the light of the candles flickered and danced. 

Your eyes roamed him despite your effort not to do so. The pale chest that peeked through the opening of the robe at the top, lightly dusted with grey hair, and his throat that was exposed for the first time for you looked smooth and inviting to snuggle against. His waist curved where the sash was tied and his feet were bare. He looked masculine, strong, handsome and you had absolutely no business feeling like what you, at that moment, did. You scolded your body and mind for reacting in such ludicrous ways to the older man who had basically forced you to marry him without even having met him before. You focused on that, focused on the rumours you had heard of him. On his nickname, Death’s Judge, and what he had done to earn it. A shiver slithered down your spine at that and it cooled you enough that you could look at him without allowing that weirdly warm sensation that you had never felt before you met him to overtake your senses. 

“Talk to me, (y/n),” he said as you both stood utterly still. Your eyes went to his, they were harsh and closed off but there was a motion in them that looked painfully like sorrow. The little second of storming emotions you had seen a moment earlier was gone - as if it had never been there.  
“I-, have I done something wrong?” you whispered out as you held his gaze with knitted brows. Your wrist was burning from his touch and you couldn’t for the life of you understand it. But your body churned when he touched you. Heated and throbbed in places where it shouldn’t have.  
“No,” he said in a low rumble. You tilted your head as you tried to understand his behaviour. You had little actual knowledge of marriage, or how a marriage with a Lord worked, but you couldn’t possibly imagine it consisted of the husband avoiding the wife so ferociously that they never saw each other. 

“Then why-”  
“I am sorry, I have a long day tomorrow and I have had a long day today. We should both get some reprieve before tomorrow.” His words cut you deeply as he interrupted you. It didn’t make sense. His avoidance, his willingness to leave you alone should have made you happy. You had your freedom and could do as you pleased despite being married. He didn’t force you to accompany him anywhere or be intimate with him, he didn’t even force you to see or talk to him. You should have been happy. Yet, you weren’t. Something about him pulled at you, at your heart and for some inexplicable reason, you wanted to know him. _No, not inexplicable, we are married for goodness sake. I should know my husband even if I never wanted to marry him._

Yet, you nodded. Something about him forced you to nod. Something about him kept you at a distance. Pushed you away. _Just like at the wedding. Nobody could get close to him, always two steps away. Always kept at bay with some invincible force of brutality. But, I wasn’t. He welcomed me, held out his arm for me, kept me close, looked at me, danced with me, talked gently with me… Then I saw those emotions in his eyes and everything was ruined… I don’t understand this man._ You sighed and he released your wrist at the sound. You felt cold the instant he let go and there was a new barrier between the two of you. Created by him. It wasn't brutal or harsh, just impenetrable and unyieldingly there. 

“Good night, (y/n),” he said gently yet there was a coldness to his voice. You shivered and pulled the rob closer over your chest and around your throat.  
“Good night, my Lord…” He stiffened at the title and you turned, right before you would have seen his gaze swirl again with that painful sorrow and fear. You walked silently back to your room and in your peripheral, you saw him standing in his doorway. He looked at you with the faint light that surrounded him like a gentle halo from behind. You stepped into your room and closed the door before you leaned against it and sank slowly to the floor as new tears slid down your cheeks. You ached to go back to him. _What’s wrong with me?_


	6. Turned About

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** This chapter is a bit darker and a complete mess for you emotionally (you as in the MC), just a heads-up on that. ;) <3 
> 
> **+A/N:** I use a slang word from the victorian era in this chapter: just-ass -> "A punning appellation for a justice," or a punny name for a judge.
> 
>  **WARNING:** This chapter contains sexual assault and harassment, henceforth this is the only warning I will give through the rest of the book for this!

You had barely slept through the night. Tossing, turning, removing the cover, hiding beneath it - that was all you had done with a few hours scattered throughout when you managed to snag a bit of sleep. So when you rose as dawn had scarcely graced the world with its light you sighed, deeply. You weren’t ready to face another day in the uncertain state of things, the uncertainty of your place and your future. The uncertainty with Richard. Judge and Lord Turpin. What would happen if the man you were tied in highly odd knots over decided you were not what he wanted as a wife? What would happen to you if you became a divorced woman at 23 without money or prospects? 

You shoved the idea out of your mind and rubbed at your eyes. That was not happening and even if it did it wasn’t the biggest concern. After all, you weren't in love with the man and he wasn't in love with you either obviously. A far more pressing matter was what the hell was going on with you. Why did you burn at his touch? Why did your heart hammer at the sight of him and why did his voice make you yearn for something unknown and tempting? Why, oh why did he light you on fire in such a strange way while you were chillingly cold at the same time? It made no damn sense, no sense at all. It wasn't love, it couldn't be. It wasn't like anything you had ever thought of or dreamt of. It was mindboggling.   
“I need answers, that’s the problem.” _My dear husband, dear just-ass, I’ll corner you if I have to._

You found a new form of resolve as you vacated the bed and started dressing in a modest [dress](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/66/5e/19/665e1981764a4109c64a159e1a7c6667.jpg), no wired corset, just a fabric one with supportive seams beneath the bodice jacket. You were not ready to endure those vicious things again just yet. You shivered at the thought as you buttoned the lengthy row of fabric-covered buttons along your centre all the way up to the middle of your throat where you made sure the lace was displayed correctly. Its ivory white colour was softened by the cadet blue colour of the dress. You pulled at the lace that lined the flared out cuffs as well. The ruffles at the bottom of the puffy skirt were simple yet gave the dress an interesting element. Even if the dress was simple, it stated something. It looked rich in all its simplicity and you weren't quite sure how it managed that. But it did. For a second you wondered if Richard had chosen the clothes that filled your wardrobe, or if it were someone else. You weren't quite sure which made you happy. 

_What do I do with my hair-_ The sound of a closing door was heard, it broke your train of thought. Had you for once managed to wake up before Richard had left? _Okay, gosh, hurry so you can catch him for goodness sake! You have a mission. Get some bloody answers!_ You struggled to pin up your hair as swiftly as possible with loose tendrils that hung around your neck and shoulders. A row of beads glimmered at the top of your head and you placed a neat pearl earring in each lobe before you looked at yourself in the large mirror. _That will have to do,_ you thought before you left your room only to hear Mrs Marsh wish Richard a good day all the way down by the entrance. _Damn!_

You hurried to reach him, but as you were halfway down the last flight of stairs the door was shut and he was gone. You sighed and stopped two steps before your feet would have reached the floor. You stared at the door, your hand gently held onto the dark wooden railing that was polished so well it shined. At odds with other aspects of the house that held dust and cobwebs. Was it now your job to run the household? As the Lady of the house?  
“Lady Turpin, good morning,” Mrs Marsh said and you jolted, startled by her voice and closeness.  
“Oh, good morning Mrs Marsh,” you said as you tried to find a smile for her. You failed.  
“My Lady, would you like some tea before breakfast?”  
“Do I look that bad?” you sighed out as tea was always had _after_ breakfast.  
“I apologize, my Lady.” You waved at her, dismissively, as she bowed her head in apology.  
“Don’t, I’d love some tea, thank you.” She nodded and then she was gone. You remained on the stairs. You glared at the door for a few minutes before you heard Mrs Marsh place your cup of tea on the table in the dining hall. That got you moving as you knew that no matter how hard you wanted him to come back so you could ask your questions, get your answers, he would not. 

Your courage dwindled as the morning passed. When lunch had been dealt with you felt resigned to never having any answers. You had retreated to your room, a book laid open in your lap as you poured over the pages. You had found it in the library on the first floor. It was a first edition of _Paul Clifford_ , the story of a chivalrous highwayman in the time of the French Revolution. You had merely stumbled upon it and wanted to give it a chance but as you read, Paul Clifford fell in with a gang of highwaymen. After that, it got too exciting to put the book down. 

Paul, while disguised as a gentleman for the purposes of a confidence trick, met and fell in love with Lucy Brandon and then Clifford was arrested for a highway robbery and brought before Lucy’s uncle, Judge Brandon, for trial, where it was revealed that Clifford was Brandon's son. You had simply been hooked by the captivating story, not to mention the alluring first sentence - _‘It was a dark and stormy night…’_ \- yes, that had intrigued you plenty. So you barely noticed how time passed but all of a sudden Mrs Marsh knocked at your door and asked if you wished for some tea. It was first then you noticed how your entire body ached from having sat still for such a long time in the bay window with the captivating book. 

You declined the tea and instead opted to actually venture outside. Not that you told Mrs Marsh that, _she’d just say it's improper and whatnot, I just want to look around a bit. All I’ve seen is this house and the street outside my window. Maybe see if I can find where Richard works. Shouldn’t be too hard?_ You placed a mark in the book before you left it in the window and pulled out your cloak and switched your little slippers to a pair of shoes of leather lined with thin fur and that had a low heel. You weren’t going to give Mrs Marsh a chance to tell you it was not Lady-like to be out and about on your own in town, that was why you opted for your own outer clothes that were hung in your wardrobe rather than the fancy and lush ones Richard had procured for you; they were in the hallway where Mrs Marsh would have plenty of time to stop you. 

You slipped out of the room and made sure nobody saw you as you went through hallways, down the two flights of stairs and then out the door. You felt a slight rush as you closed it behind you and inhaled the somewhat damp and smelly air of inner London. The fragrance of dust, damp leaves, smoke and other unpleasantries mixed with baked bread and perfume was a weird mixture to inhale. It made you miss the fresh air of the countryside, the air you had grown up breathing. Nevertheless, you hurried towards the gate and passed over to the other side of the street. _Freedom, some kind of freedom at least._

You strolled along the cobblestone paved roads, looked into shops through the dirty windows and avoided horses with their carriages as well as you could - while also avoiding getting splashed by water from the dirty puddles when they passed. You had a smile across your lips as you simply took in the city. That you were so busy looking at everything was probably a good thing as people looked sideways at you, staired, even glared with disapproval at you. Some were nosy, some were displeased and some were boggled by you. Of course, most people knew who you were and who you were married to and in all honesty, who could blame them for their looks? Not that you had noticed them. It wasn't until you stopped to look at some very pretty dresses displayed on mannequins in a large window that you noticed. 

There were whisperings around you, cold words of gold-digging and prostitution, greed and vanity. Harsh looks when they thought you didn’t see, but the glass’ reflection showed you how many of the passing people sneered at you with content. At least the more fancy people, the poor once looked at you in a different way and that made you even more uncomfortable. You lowered your gaze and hurried along the street as you tried to find the courthouse where Richard worked. Why? You had no idea. Perhaps just to get a glimpse of the man who was your stranger of a husband. Get more details for the painting that was his portrait in your mind. Or, perhaps, you were a tiny bit afraid of the people around you and, for some reason, Richard was the thing that somehow managed to scream safety in your mind while you were ogled by all kinds of people with intentions that were clearly not good. 

Darkness fell as you walked about, as you got yourself utterly lost while you took turn after turn. In the end, you were in some narrow little alleyway and felt utterly, hopelessly turned about. _What do I do now? Find a constable? Do I just ask someone where I am? How to get back to the centre of town?_ You hugged yourself as the chill of the evening made you shiver in your somewhat old and thinned coat. Your feet were aching, cold and wet from the muddy puddles you had traversed through a few times to often. You glanced around as you walked but you could only see more alleyways and high walls of brick that towered above you wherever you looked. The air was damper and smellier where you were at that moment and it made you alert, uncomfortable, fearful even. Rightly so it would seem...

“Well lookie here lads, a little kitten has wandered into our alley.” You nearly stumbled as the greasy voice filled your ears.  
“Where you goin’ sweetheart? Wanna join us fo’ sume' fun?” another man called out with a snicker and you glanced to your side as two men flanked you on either side, a third man behind you. You kept walking, upped your tempo, despite the fact that bile rose in your throat, your stomach churned with fear and your heart pounded viciously in the most uncomfortable way. Perhaps there was a reason all the fancy women you had seen were accompanied by someone, and stayed on the lit-up, bigger streets.  
“Come on lass, you’ll enjoy it as much’ as we’ll do,” the man on your left said with a sickeningly disgusting voice.  
“No thank you,” you said with as much strength as you could muster. Which wasn’t much as fear crept through you at a rapid pace. You felt so small. Tiny and helpless as the men surrounded you with wicked gleams in their eyes that you never wanted to witness. 

The man on your left grabbed your cloak and you shrieked as he pulled you towards him roughly. His face was dirty, gleamed with oil and old sweat. He reeked of alcohol and smoke. His thin hands grabbed your upper arms with a harshness that felt wrong on all levels. In all ways, wrong.   
“Let go!” you shouted in his face as you tried to tug yourself lose.  
“Aw, sweetheart, let’s have sume’ fun, ey?” he snickered with a yellow grin and you wanted to throw up from the look of him. In the next instant, the other men were on you, they pulled at your coat and threw it on the ground. The cold of the evening attacked you with new strength yet it was nothing compared to the ice-cold fear that froze you from the inside. 

“No, let go!” you screamed as one man held your wrists harshly while he stood behind you, another was pulling at your skirts to lift them and the third man smiled as if he was having the most enjoyable time of his life. You nearly gagged at the sight of his yellow teeth.   
“ _Let go!_ ” you screamed as you struggled against their hands. They laughed out horrendous sounds and the second man who was pulling at your skirts lowered himself to move the many layers away along with your undergarments. Out of pure panic, or instinct, you rammed your knee up into his chin with such force he toppled backwards and thudded to the ground with a splashing noise from the muddy puddles. Before the other men had even reacted you stomped your foot down on the first man's foot, you drove your heel into his thin shoes and he howled as he released your wrists to grab at his own foot. 

You jolted forward and ran, the third man pursued you but he was drunk and staggered about which gave you the advantage needed to run away from the men and find somewhere to hide, or someone to help you. You ran and turned, ran along that little way and then turned again, ran some more and turned. It was all a blur. A cold, aching, horrible blur. Suddenly the noise of carriages and hooves echoed towards you. You panted and looked towards the direction of the sound as tears muddled your view. _There,_ you thought with relief as you saw light up ahead. You held onto your dirty skirts and ran for it. Despite the fact your lungs were burning and everything hurt. As if your body had been trampled by cows. 

Your hair had fallen down in a complete mess, your dress was ruined with oil, soot and dirt. Torn at some places even. The prints from the first man's hands were still around your wrists like black marks of a devil as you stumbled out on a larger street. Darkness had completely taken over and you just wanted to go home. Go home and take a bath, hide, never leave the house again. _I hate London._ You wiped at the tears that rolled down your cheeks as you looked around in an effort to see if you recognized anything. 

You did. A little place called 'Mrs Lovett's Pie Shop' that you had passed just a few minutes from Richard’s house, from your home. That meant you were on Fleet Street. You looked to your left and recognised another store that was even closer to the house so you knew you needed to head that way. So that's what you did. But as you had been running like a maniac a moment ago from adrenaline-fueled fear, you were now crashing down to the bottom as the adrenaline left you in a shooked state that literally had your body vibrating violently in harsh shakes as you sobbed and hugged yourself. Tried to banish the cold and the fear with your own embrace. But the only thing you felt was the men's hands. Hands that travelled where they shouldn't and the sensation was so wrong you wanted to vomit. No man had ever touched you in a sexual way and you weren't quite sure how ruined you were, but you knew that you were ruined in some way. There was no doubt about that.

People merely glanced at you as you staggered along. No offer of help or aid. You were not recognizable as Lady Turpin like you had been before in your pristine state. Now, as you were tattered, dirty and shivered, nobody batted an eye at you. You were just another poor soul out on the streets who nobody would help or care for. Who wasn't worth a care in the world or any helpful gesture. _Almost there, almost there, almost there…_ You thought as you kept walking by sheer willpower alone. _Almost there, almost there, almost there..._

The gate squeaked as you opened it. Your feet hurt immensely as you staggered up the little pathway and then the stairs to the large door painted black. You pushed it open with nearly all your remaining strength. You panted heavily as you shut it as silently as you could behind you while you tried your best to quench the sobs. You didn’t want anyone to see you in such a despicable state. Perhaps they would think you were completely ruined and unworthy if they saw you. You weren’t, it hadn’t gone that far but they would assume. You knew they would assume and Richard, Death’s Judge, would he just cast you out like a dirty little thing of little to no worth? That actually frightened you in a way it shouldn’t have. 

You shivered and started towards the stairs. Your shoes clicked as your feet hit the polished floor, dirty prints left behind and muddled by the muddy and wet hem of your dress.  
“LADY TURPIN! _THANK GOODNESS!_ ” You halted with one foot on the first step up the stairs as Mrs Marsh came running at full speed from the dining room and kitchen hallway. You tensed up, your shoulders raised and your backs tiff as you tried to still the shaking that seemed to be coming from your core.   
“Where have you-” but she stopped dead in her tracks as you came into view for her. Her eyes bulged, her skin paled and her hand clasped over her open mouth. You turned your face away in fear and shame, in pain and sorrow. 

“Lady Turpin, dear lord, what ever happened?” Mrs Marsh asked with apprehension.  
“N-, nothing, I tripped,” you whispered out, “excuse me.” Your voice was so light it was barely audible as you started to walk up the stairs despite your bodies aching protests at the movement.   
“Lady Turpin, please,” she said, “please, he’s beside himself.” You halted mid-step as you looked sideways and down at her where she stood frozen.  
“Who?”  
“His Lordship of course my Lady! He’s been searching for hours for you!” Worry etched her voice and you didn’t know what to say to that. 

“Is he not at work?” you asked flatly. He was always at work, avoided you, hid from you. Always away and never gave you the time of day.   
“My Lady, please, as soon as we noticed you were gone we searched for you. When we couldn’t find you we _had_ to fetch his Lordship. He’s beside himself, he’s been riding around _all over town_ to find you, my Lady.” Mrs Marsh looked worried in a way you hadn't thought possible for the older woman with her harsh features and it didn't sit right with you.   
“He didn’t have to.” Your voice was empty, cold even, as something broke within you. It felt as if the woman was lying straight to your face and you resented the notion of false care. Resented lies about caring for someone, for their safety and well being. Richard clearly didn't care for you or your well being. He wouldn't have abandoned you the moment you were married if that were the case.

“I'll take a bath.” With that you kept walking up the stairs as you heard Mrs Marsh call for Ms Claire, she told her to go find the Lord instantly. But you felt a bit too numb to think about that man. To think of anything really, except how badly you wanted a bath and clean of the day's events. You didn't want to wonder how long it would be before Death's Judge dismissed you and threw you out with a disgraced sneer etched along his harsh face, nothing but disgust in those steely, grey eyes of his. _Why am I thinking about him as if I care about what he thinks of me? We're merely married on paper._ You thought as you entered the bathroom and closed the door behind you. _There's nothing else in the marriage for him so why would he actually even care? His reputation perhaps but what could be worse than being Death's Judge?_

New tears slid down your cheeks. In contradiction to what your thoughts voiced, your heart felt differently about the stranger for some inexplicable reason that you could not fathom in your mind. Even if you burned at his touch, wanted to know everything about him, be close to him, be in his personal space as you had been at the reception of your wedding and see those steely eyes turn into a havoc of cascading emotions again it couldn't be love. It just couldn't. Love was butterflies in the stomach, was smiles and laughs, dates and romance. You couldn't help but think of Dorothy and her husband. How they had light in their eyes and smiles on their lips as they viewed each other with care and adoration. How they laughed and talked, worked together in harmony created by love. No, what was between you and your husband was nothing like that. Nothing at all like that. _I'm, so confused._

The tub started to fill with water and you add a little bit of essential oil to it that you hoped would soothe you a bit more than just warm water. You started to undress as your mind rolled around in thoughts that just made you more confused by the minute. The dirty, destroyed dress was slung over a little chair in the corner by the door, you didn't want to look at it or think about what the stains on it meant. You sat down on the floor and started to lace down your soaked, muddy shoes. You hissed ever so slightly as you pulled them off. Your feet were a bloody, blistered mess. _Christ,_ you thought as you looked at them. They looked about as terrible as they felt, _it's going to take days before they've healed..._ You sighed deeply and threw the shoes over to the dress where they landed right by the muddy hem with a clattering noise. 

As you rose you couldn't help but hiss again. Now that the shoes were removed their pressure had gone too, which meant you could actually feel the hurt and ache in your feet even more. You tried your best to keep your balance despite the stinging and pounding along your pads and toes as you removed all the other layers of clothing and left them in a heap on the floor right where you stood. You gingerly walked over to the tub nearly completely hidden by a beautiful divider along its side. You climbed in ever so slowly as you bit down on your bottom lip and screwed your eyes shut tightly as the heat made you sting all over again. It surrounded your body and as you had immersed yourself all the way to your collar bones you blew out a breath and leaned your head back on the little headrest that hung over the edge of the clawfooted tub. You took another deep breath and tried not to think of anything but the warmth that surrounded you but Mrs Marsh's words echoed through your head.   
_'...he’s beside himself...'_  
_'...he’s been searching for hours for you...'_  
_'...he’s been riding around all over town to find you...'_

For some reason, the notion that maybe (even if it was just a tiny smidge) he cared on some level for you made your lips tug at the corners ever so faintly for a second as your tears kept streaming. You couldn't understand why but you wanted him to find you. You wanted him to care about you, to want to know you, be close to you. At the same time, you wanted to leave and never come back. You wanted to leave London and never return. Go back to the safety of a small town in the countryside and always having someone to walk with, talk with, be with. But a soon as that thought crossed your mind his steely grey eyes appeared with that storming surge of emotions you had seen as he looked down on you in his arms. You wanted to know what it meant and why such a tiny moment had impacted you so fiercely. Because obviously, it had. Something was going on inside you and you could not for the life of you understand what you were feeling. _He has the answers and I'll never get them..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I really, really, really hope you are sitting on the edge of your seat and want more of this story as I am quite literally sitting on the edge of my seat as I'm writing it. I can't type fast enough it seems. O.O Please leave a comment if you want to, it means so much to me and I love to hear what my readers think! <3 
> 
> Thank you for giving my fic your precious time dearies! <3


	7. His Own Misdeeds [Turpin's POV]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Hi dearies! Another chapter from Turpin's POV (because I enjoy writing them and you seem to like 'em too xD) and this one is a bit of a ride ;) I am trying to not give away to much information at the same time as I am trying to give his perspective - it's lots of fun but a tad difficult to find the right balance xD Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! :D <3 
> 
> **ABBR.:** | Y/N - Your Name |

The courthouse was packed, nosy people who wanted to see others condemned filled the stands along with family and friends of the ones being judged. Desperate pleas and sobs echoed within its walls along with the murmur of people. There was no forgiveness to be granted there, no light of day or shimmer of moonlight could penetrate the thick walls he surrounded himself with day and night. Today was just like that, had been just like that. Theft, murder, battering and hustling. Crimes, all of it, and he condemned them all. Judged them all for their deeds, yet nobody judged him. Nobody had dared call him out for his errors or prosecute him for the things he had done in the past. If that was good or bad, he could not tell. However, he was grateful that his own misdeeds seemed to linger in shadow with few knowing about his actions. 

Richard had just pounded the gavel on another death sentence. He was in a foul mood and it seemed to grow darker every day that passed. He longed for you, yearned for you yet he made sure he was nowhere near you. Each time he saw you pain slashed through him in deep cuts. All he could think of were those empty eyes he had met, eyes that looked at a stranger when he was in shambles over you. He had been for over a year and now that he had you as his wife the pain sored into a higher plain as you were not his to have even if you were Lady Turpin. That was all to clear from the look you had given him when he had not been able to shield his own emotions. The empty void in your eyes had reminded him of the eyes of Lucy. His greatest mistake and misdeed. 

He stood, ready to leave for his chambers to take a breather before the next case was to be judged. He had scarcely stood when the double doors were flung open with such force they battered against the receiving walls. A hushed gasp rolled around in the courtroom. He glared at the opening, ready to bite someone’s head off for such an entrance in his court. But as he saw Mrs Marsh standing there, her hair slightly messy, her chest heaving and her eyes directed right at him he froze in his tracks. Something was wrong, very wrong.  
“Beadle, clear my day,” he barked on a growl and the Beadle nodded with an agreeing ‘yes, my Lord’ while his ratlike teeth were showcased in a slight sneer. 

Richard walked as swiftly as he could towards Mrs Marsh who walked towards him as well.  
“What?” he snapped out as the older woman panted and looked worried. That worried him more as the old woman was never ruffled or anxious about anything.   
“She’s gone, we can’t find her, my Lord,” she said with a somewhat shrill voice, “Lady Turpin, she’s-” He was off before she could finish the sentence. He raced to his chambers in long strides as he unbuttoned his judging robe and tore off the white wig he was forced to wear. He discarded it all in his chambers before he grabbed his cloak and hat, locked the door and found Mrs Marsh in the entrance hall to the vast building, she was waiting for him with a tapping foot.  
“Where have you looked?” he asked harshly as they left the building and Mrs Marsh started to recount all the places they had searched as they climbed into a carriage and Richard barked at the driver to rush to his house. 

As Mrs Marsh kept telling him how they had searched for you he felt an iciness that gripped his heart harshly. Darkness had fallen outside and London was an abominable place to be as night crawled in and gave shelter for misdeeds, vial actions. He knew all too well what happened in the dark, hidden in alleyways and nooks. Knew the scum that crawled the streets, the violence that sprawled itself fully in the shelter of night. He looked out the window of the carriage with a harsh expression as they rode towards his house, searched for you with piercing eyes of steel each second that passed; with a sliver of hope that you would be wandering along the well-lit streets where you would be somewhat safe. _I should have warned her, I should have warned her not to go out in the dark. I should have talked to her, I should have-, should have been with her for God’s sake!_

As the carriage bumped along at a rapid pace he could not help but think about last evenings encounter with you. How you had come to him after he had yielded to his emotions for a moment earlier, as he had watched you sleep and stupidly touched your soft skin as he moved a beautiful tendril of your hair. You enthralled him and he was helplessly entranced and irrevocably in love with you. Even if you did not feel for him as he did for you. His stomach tied itself up in a heavy knot as he thought about your beautiful face when light danced across it from his room as you had stood outside his door in just your nightgown and silk robe. _She had come to me, she wanted to talk, to know and I shut her down, turned her away when she wanted to be close with me. I-, I haven't even given her a chance to find some emotions for me because of my own fear and selfish ideas._ His mind growled at him as he hated the fact that he had been so cold towards you, even if it was his attempt at keeping you safe. Safe from him. 

Everything happened in a flurry of barked commands and hasty movements once the carriage stopped. He ordered Mrs Marsh to get the police involved, to make sure all doors were unlocked if you were to return and then he straddled the horse Ms Claire had ordered for him as Mrs Marsh had gone to the courthouse to find him earlier. His body shivered and pulsed with dread as he gripped the reins harder. The animal beneath him stomped in place as his agitated energy seeped through the leather and into it.   
“Go!” he shouted at the officers and constables who had arrived to aid him in his search. They were at his disposal at all times after all. Then he galloped out of the gate in all hast to find you. _She has to be safe, she has to be safe, she has to be safe…_

He rode along the larger streets, along the smaller streets, asked people if they had seen you but nobody had done so since darkness had fallen. Some had seen you along the main streets hours ago but there was no fresh trail to follow. _Fuck! Where the hell are you, love?!_ His mind raced with possibilities, each one grimmer than the last and his own misdeeds of the past haunted him like an endless echo. He was too aware of what men were capable of and you were out there, alone. Your beautiful face was out there for others to ogle and be invited by.   
“ _Hiya!_ ” The horse galloped faster, the sound of its shoed hooves against the cobblestone nearly drowned out the other sounds of the town. He slowed when he rode through alleyways and unlit roads between brick walls. But he couldn’t find you. No matter where he searched, your presence was missing. Your beautiful face nowhere to be seen.

His lungs heaved, his legs felt unsteady in the stirrups. His body was ageing and he was not as fit or agile as he had once been. He cursed under his breath as he needed to keep going. Needed to find you. Everywhere he looked he thought he glimpsed you but you weren’t anywhere. You were gone and it was past midnight. Drunks filled the streets and there were scarcely any women about with the exception of the main streets that were well-lit and traversed with plenty of couples and constables. You should have been there, but you weren't and he could not for the life of him understand why you'd venture away from the light that gave some form of security.  
“ _Fuck,_ ” he growled through clenched teeth as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, “ _Where the hell are you?_ ” He turned his horse about as he had reached the courthouse and surged forward along the main street for the umpteenth time as his eyes scanned for you with fierce intensity. Images of your blue lips, your motionless body in an alleyway somewhere with a torn dress haunted his mind and he gritted his teeth. _No, she has to be safe!_

The horse neighed loudly and its hooves stomped the ground harshly when he pulled the animal to an abrupt halt as a constable called his name while he ran at full speed from across the street. Richard's eyes widened and his heart pounded harshly in his chest.   
“Lady Turpin is found!” the constable panted out on a holler.  
“ _Where?!”_  
“Your house, Judge Turpin, she’s-” He was off at full speed before the man had taken another breath or finished his sentence. The pounding of the hooves and heavy breathing of the animal he rode too harshly was drowned out. He leaned forward and urged the animal to go faster while his mind raced with raw and horrendous thoughts, all starred you. Horrible ideas of what could have happened to you in the darkness of the night, alone on the streets. His heart hammered so harshly that it felt as if it would give out, his skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat from the excursion of riding like a maniac for hours. But the cold sweat that clung to his hands and neck were far worse as it came from his fear for your safety. 

He was reeling with emotions once he dismounted the horse right inside of the gates. In long strides, he climbed the stairs on shaky legs and pushed the door open. His eyes raked the entrance hall for signs of you, the muddy shoeprints and the traces of a muddy hem directed him towards the stairs and just as he began to run Mrs Marsh called out from the hallway to the library, “The bathroom, my Lord!” He took the stairs two at a time despite his legs wails against the hasty motions. He panted and surged upwards. Towards the bathroom on the highest floor, and you. 

He didn’t care that his boots left prints, he didn’t care that he was heaving and sweating. Didn’t care that he was a sordid mess and cut open for all to see. He just wanted to reach you, see you, know that you were safe. He wanted to erase the picture that had been painted from his own fear and pain. Wanted to see your pink lips and flushed face without any traces of the horrors he had imagined over and over. He wished desperately that his own misdeeds would not be punished through you. For there was nothing that could hurt him as badly as you could, as anything done to you could. 

He launched himself through the red hallway that led to both of your bedrooms and the bathroom. Without a second thought of what he might find behind the door, he pushed it open with more force than necessary and stepped inside hastily as his panting breathes filled the air.  
“(Y/n),” he breathed out as his eyes landed on the only thing he could see of you since the divider provided shelter for most of the tub where your body laid. Your beautiful face looked unscathed to his complete relief. His eyes met yours and there was something new there. There was something there that hadn’t been there before. It had only been a short moment since he stepped into the bathroom when your eyes met and he crumbled beneath your gaze as his own was completely cut open for you to see the havoc that stormed inside of him; for you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Oh I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It is a tad shorter than usual but I feel like it suited the events to be a bit sharper and to the point in my writing. This was super hard to write, not because of the story but because Turpin is (to me) such a complicated character and to be in his head (even if it's my version of him) is a tad demanding and horrific honestly. At the same time though, it's rather wonderful and I do truly enjoy writing these chapters that showcase his view of the story. anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and are eager for more! <3
> 
> ###  **READER INPUT - YOUR WISHES!**
> 
> I always strive to make my readers happy and for you to feel included in the story and how it progresses. So here is your chance to actually tell me what you would like to know/read! Find my comment below called 'Reader Input' and tell me one thing you want Y/N to find out about or one thing you want to happen in the story. I will do my utmost to include it at some point in the story and give you the answers/scenes/events you want to read about! ^^ <3 
> 
> (Small FYI - I do not guarantee that I can include everything but I will do my best! The comment for reader input will stay open until Sunday this week [March 11 - March 14] so don't miss out on this chance to tell me your wishes! <3)


	8. Your Whereabouts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Hi dearies! ^^ I hope you're ready for another chapter! :D this one was somehow easy to write, it just flowed and felt right in its softer state following the last chapter. I do rather enjoy the mountains and valleys of tempo when I write to give you both a chance at thrilling, high tempo chapters and gentler lulls that give you a chance to digest what you're reading. I hope you enjoy this style too as I feel it gives varying sensations to the story depending on how you write them. this one is softer, slower in its pace. but don't get me wrong, a whole lot is happening! ;) 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this and feel free to drop a comment if you want to! ^^ <3 
> 
> **ABBR.:** | Y/N - Your Name |
> 
>  **+A/N:** I don't know if you guys are interested in knowing what music I listen to while I write but for this chapter, I listened to [Moonlight Sonata - Michael Silverman](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwHk0oki2PI) and [Be Still My Soul (Owens) - Emile Pandolfi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iDY-LK5BeyQ) amoung others - but this two influence my writing the most for this chapter ^^

You had barely had time to get comfortable in the warm water when the door burst open with a swift motion paired with heaving breaths and the utterance of your name in a mere whisper. A breathless sound. You jolted and gasped as Richard filled the doorway, one foot in the room and one hand on the knob. _He’s here-_ was the only thing you had time to think before your gaze locked with his. You were frozen in place despite the indecency of the situation. 

His eyes, they were cut open and bleeding emotions. Emotions cascaded like pouring rain in an autumn storm of the greatest magnitude from him. You were breathless with the ravaging view of purity and pain paired with warmth as heated as the burning flames of hellfire. Your chest constricted, your heart hammered. He viewed you with severity and care as deep as the sea itself, near-endless in its might. A shiver shot along your spine as you held his gaze with warmth and affection you had denied was there earlier. He meant something to you and as you saw his grey eyes that so openly showcased his own affection you could not deny the yearning that grew in that special place in your heart that you had not known existed before he came into your life. 

His eyes had started something on your wedding day. Had led you on an endless spin of uncertainty that had created something unknown within you. Something warm, soft. Something that contrasted with the storm he was within; if you trusted his worldly eyes of steel. For some reason, you did. He had done nothing to deserve your trust. Had done nothing to earn it either. Yet it was there, it just existed without logic or sense to back it up. You did not trust easily, but he was different in so many ways. Ways you were not even aware of yet knew were there. _Is this something that would be called soulmates in a romance novel?_

Your abrupt thought, the first that had appeared since your eyes hooked, startled you and effectively kicked you into gear.  
“Richard!” you shrieked as you were suddenly extremely aware of your naked state and his closeness. You jolted up and hid behind the divider that gave some shelter from his stormy eyes and the rushing of emotions they sent towards you, over you, through you. Your cheeks heated and a blush crept over your chest and neck along with the rosy tinge your cheeks took on.  
“Are you-,” he started as you heard him take another step into the room. But he turned silent as abruptly as he had started to speak. 

Your heart pounded within your ribs and you screwed your eyes shut while you bit your lip. You sent a silent prayer to the heavens above that he would not see the state of the dress, the prints left by male hands, the ruined shoes and that he had not seen the pain in your eyes despite the warmth that had flooded them when they looked into his. _Please, leave, please leave. Leave and don’t see, please…_ But you heard the rustling of fabric and knew, you just knew he was holding up the dress that was utterly ruined and bore the marks of what had happened to you. they did not tell the whole story but they were enough to let someone know something had happened. 

“ _What, happened?_ ” His voice was a low growl, a vicious snarl that shook you to the core of your very being. You curled up further and pressed your arms against your chest as your folded legs pressed against them in return. _Please, please, please go._  
“(Y/n),” he snarled with more force, “what happened?” You shivered at his tone and the warmth you had felt a moment earlier disappeared instantly. You were frightened; in pain. You were already hurting and the anger in his voice made you feel so small.  
“Please,” you whispered as tears trickled down your face and your voice was a mere whisper. You had not had any time to heal from the evening's trauma and were not ready to spill it all out in actual words to another person, let alone to the judge who growled so viciously. 

In the next moment, the divider was pushed away and he stood beside the tub. You instinctively looked up and the pure rage that pulsed from him made you recoil so hurriedly that water sloshed over the edges of the clawfooted tub. You gasped and tried to cover yourself as best you could in desperation to shield your naked form from him.  
“Who hurt you?!” he bellowed out as his nostrils flared with heavy breaths that sounded ragged. He looked, furious. It frightened you, even if you felt as though the fury were not directed at you.   
“Please, don’t,” you pleaded desperately as you tried to make yourself as tiny as possible to shield your body from his gaze. 

He threw the dress away with force as you looked away and tried to hid your face. You were so ashamed, frightened of him and what would happen next. Would he force you to leave? To get a divorce? Send you back to be a burden on your parents and ruin what little reputation you had gained them by marrying him. _And what about me? What about this, this feeling? This thing that’s growing in my heart? What about his-_ Warm hands grabbed your shoulders, interrupted your thoughts and the next thing you knew he was pressing you against his chest and shoulder, the edge of the tub the only separation. His arms wrapped around you with strength and what felt like a desperate need to get close. 

You stiffened, unprepared for the burning sensation that erupted everywhere he touched you. Unprepared for the warmth that filled your stomach and the ache that grew inside your heart. He was shaking. He smelled like sweat, smoke, horse and something else. Something that you could only imagine was his distinct smell. It was wonderfully masculine and musty. _This is wrong,_ you thought as you wanted to cling to him, wanted to be held by him. He was safety for some odd reason that you still could not fathom yet he was also a complete stranger with rainstorms in his eyes. _This is wrong,_ you thought again as your body stiffened in remembrance of the hands that had previously roamed over you despite your protests. The greasy voices, snickering laughter and the yellow teeth between smiling lips of wicked glee. 

You shivered as he held you tighter. You could have sworn you heard his breath hitch at that moment.  
“P-please,” you choked out on a small sob. You wanted him there yet you wanted him to leave. You wanted to cling to him yet you wanted him to go away. You wanted to be comforted and cared for, but at the same time, you just wanted to be alone and clean away the dirty feeling that covered you from head to toe.  
“You’re bleeding,” he breathed out on a low rumble and you tried to tuck away your feet so he wouldn’t see them anymore. The low growl in his voice should have made you uneasy, yet it did not. As if it wasn’t directed at you and hence could not harm you. Just like the fury that seemed to radiate from him. 

“Richard, please, leave me be for a moment,” you sobbed out as your emotions raged through a war inside of you. Battled for your attention.   
“I tried that,” he said with a thickness to his voice that you had never heard before, “look what it yielded.” That last part was grounded out and you were not sure if his body stiffened in anger, fear or pain. Either way, his arms became harder around you. As if he perhaps did not want to let go. As if he wanted to be sure you were not going to disappear. You could not quite understand why. You had nowhere to go and you were his wife, so you really had no choice but to stay. Not that you wanted to leave, leave London yes - but leave him? No. No, for some odd reason you could not even bear to think about that. He had attached himself in that new space in your heart and you were not sure how you felt about that. However, you could not deny the sensations that flowed through you at his closeness and the way he had looked at you. Openly, without that dimming and harshness that kept his storming self contained, hidden from all around. 

“Tell me,” he growled near your ear, “what happened and who caused you this pain.” You shivered again despite the warmth his closeness provided along with the warm blush that nearly covered you from your chest and up. His words were not a question but a command and the nickname he carried rang through your head again. You could not even muster the courage needed to open your eyes, even less so the courage to speak about what had happened to you with the most notorious judge of brutality in all of London and beyond. For a moment, a single little moment, you were struck by an appreciation for his sudden display of care for you, a feeling of sickening joy that he would actually punish the feral men that had harmed you. That he cared enough to pursue them, incarcerate them and then judge them with harshness. But you were not foolish enough to give merit to the sensation so that feeling went away nearly as quickly as it had arrived. It wasn't you, either way, you did not wish harm on others for barely any reason. The exception was if someone harmed your sisters. That made you see red. But if someone harmed you? Little insignificant you who meant so little to everyone? Well, that was not worthy of a reaction as strong. Even if it hurt. Even if you felt terrible. You never allowed your pain to inconvenience others. You simply felt that you were not worthy.

But there was Richard, he held you and growled in your ear. Wanted to know what had been done and by who. Wanted to know, showed that he cared in some way. _Or perhaps he's protecting his own reputation. If word spread that this wife, that his wife was unpure..._ You shivered again as your thoughts flew by, unrestrained and untethered. It made no sense. They made no sense. If he had been wanting to only protect himself why were his eyes storming? Why was he shaking and holding you so strongly? Even if his actions spoke for themselves you could not dare to hope that someone actually truly cared for you, for little you and your wellbeing. especially not a stranger who had married you without ever having met. _I still don't understand that, our marriage. I don't understand._ It hurt not to know, but it hurt even more that you dared not dream of knowing as Richard had avoided you with such ardency. 

"This is indecent,” you whispered in a shallow breath. Even if you were married, you were not actually close enough to be in the current situation. You naked in a tub with his strong arms wrapped around you.  
“You are my wife,” he said in a low baritone voice that was more soothing than growling.  
“Yet I am not, beyond a marriage certificate.” Your own words stung and hurt yet they were true. You opened your eyes only to see his arm that was wrapped around your curled up form. His grip loosened and it felt as if that wall, the inexplicable sense of a barrier, rose again. You knew his eyes were no longer storming and open for you. They were again steely grey slates of harshness. Yet yours were still open and warm with that odd affection you did still not understand. 

He said nothing as he released you and stood. You looked up at him with your head slightly tilted back and you had indeed been correct in your assumption regarding his eyes. They were dim, closed. His back straightened, his shoulders stiffened and that wall grew thicker. You didn’t want that wall to be there. Yet you knew it was your words that had created it this time around. How your words held such power were beyond your understanding but it hurt that you had hurt him. You worked on a swallow to find something to say yet he only raised his eyebrows slightly as your mouth opened and closed, wordlessly. He gave a curt nod before he turned and strode out of the bathroom with clenched fists. The door slammed shut behind him. You jumped ever so slightly before you relaxed a tiny bit and blew out a breath. You missed his closeness already and there was no way to explain that. Why you missed a stranger's embrace.

You slowly, carefully, washed your aching feet and then cleaned your body as roughly as you dared. The water had turned a little dirty with a red tin to it when you were done. You stepped out of the tub and drained it before you rinsed it out with a little clean water so Mrs Marsh, or Ms Claire, wouldn’t have a hard job of cleaning it properly later. You dried off with plush towels that felt gentle against your raw skin before you reached for your bathrobe and grabbed the doorknob to leave when your eyes caught sight of the ruined dress Richard had thrown on the floor earlier. It was truly ruined and most likely beyond repair. For a little moment, you felt guilty about the ruined fabric that had probably cost more than you wanted to imagine. _Maybe, it was my fault? I shouldn’t have gone out alone, shouldn’t have been out after dark, shouldn’t have been walking in alleyways…_

You left the bathroom and could not help but to glance towards Richard’s door. It was closed and you couldn’t see any light from the creak between it and the floor. Maybe he was already asleep, perfectly content with life or pondering what to do with his ruined wife? _No, no that’s not him._ Your own mind laughed and scoffed at you as it stated you did not know the man and had no clue what he was feeling or thinking. But, at the same time, you could not imagine him being cruel or harsh with you as the memory of his swirling emotions in those storming grey eyes filled your head. _I still don’t understand._

You sighed and went into your own room and gently shut the door behind you. As you turned you stiffened, your eyes landed on your bed where a few little things laid in wait for you. You walked over with careful steps to avoid any unnecessary pain. There was a tube of lotion, some cloth and a little bottle with a clear liquid. A little box beside the bottle with two rolls of bandage in it and a small note laid next to it. You grabbed the note that had harsh but beautiful handwriting on it.  
“Clean, lotion, bind.” You wrinkled your nose a bit at the shortness but at the same time, your heart swelled as you knew the words were written by Richard. The masculinity in the writing screamed at you. _He does care, at least a little,_ you thought as you sat down on the bed and took off the slippers before you set to work caring for your sore feet. 

As you were wrapping the bandages of cotton around your feet you wondered what it would take to understand him better and get some answers, get to know him and the secret behind his eyes. That a set of eyes could make all the difference in the world had previously to you been unknown. If you had not fainted, had not seen the storm he contained within, had you felt as you did for him? Had he been closer with you? Had he been different? Had you been different with him? Had you felt differently about wanting to be close to him? Yes. Without a doubt. It felt as if you had seen something none other had ever seen and despite your attempts to keep a levelled head and actually think about your situation, you could not escape the notion of being special to him. That you _wanted_ to be special to him despite all the reasons that told you not to care. There were quite a few; you lined some of them up in your head as you fastened the bandage and started on your other foot. 

_‘...he’s 20 years older than me…’_ _  
_ _‘...he’s a stranger to me..’_ _  
_ _‘...he’s harsh and cold, avoidant…’_ _  
_ _‘...he’s called Death’s Judge for goodness sake…’_ _  
_ _‘...I know nothing about him…’_ _  
_ _‘...he married a stranger without meeting first…’_ _  
_ _‘...he hasn't even tried to be close to me…’_ _  
_ _‘...he’s left me all alone in this new life…’_ _  
_ _‘...what I feel has no logic behind it…’_ _  
_ _‘...there’s been no attempts at a relationship…’_ _  
_ _‘...he doesn’t want to be in the same room…’_ _  
_ _‘...he shut me down when I tried to talk with him…’_ _  
_ _‘...the rumours, the God damn rumours about him…’_  
_‘...the wall between him and the world…’_ _  
‘...he was gentle with me, invited me to be on his arm…’_

You sighed as you leaned your elbows on your knees and shoved your hands into your moist hair. Confused by the last little thought that slipped in and remained. For he had done so. He had kept you close, whenever you looked at him during your wedding day his eyes found you. Whenever you moved about the room he seemed to shift and turn so as to keep you in his line of sight. You had not thought about it at the time but now, as you looked back, he had constantly been aware of your whereabouts. He had been warm towards you, in a muted and silent way. But still warm and welcoming despite the obvious fact none other had the privilege of being in his space or touch him in any way. There had been no wall of distancing; you had been welcome in his personal space. Welcomed to touch him, place your hand on his arm. But, why? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! <3 
> 
> (A little reminder to go make your wish in the READER INPUT comment on the previous chapter - it's open until Sunday ^^ )


	9. Pack Your Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Yay, another chapter! I hope you are excited about this next part! :D <3 
> 
> This chapter just flowed for me, it felt right and good and I really feel good about this one. It's a tad slower, more gentle yet it is brimming with emotion and activity. I am kinda super excited for this one since it holds little things of great meaning and I really think you will be happy as this has some FLUFF IN IT! Yes, yes, you get some actual fluffy stuff! Slowburn fluffy stuff, but still, FLUFF! I hope it will satisfy you and keep you wanting more - or at least help you with the angsty parts and give your hearts a little break xD ^^ <3 
> 
> **ABBR.:** | Y/N - your Name |

At some point, you had managed to fall asleep despite all the thoughts that danced around in your head and the aching of your body. You had gotten bruises around your wrists and thighs where the dirty hands of the yellow-toothed men had grabbed and held you roughly. Your feet were aching yet the lotion and bandages helped immensely. You were grateful for what little care he had shown, at the same time his actions confused you to no end and that’s what had been swirling around in your head all through the night. First as thoughts and then as dreams. 

His storming eyes surrounded by deep darkness, burning flames that licked your skin where he had touched you, held you. Howling winds that growled the words he had spoken. All night you had been consumed by the dreams of him and as you awoke when dawn came you felt as if you had barely slept. Your tousled hair told you you had been tossing and turning quite a bit. You sighed as you threw away the covers and left the warmth of the bed to get dressed. 

The fact that he had chased away any horrendous dreams of the assault you had gone through last night told you a few things. One, he meant more than those men. Two, his actions were more important than those of others no matter how significant they were. Three, you were warm inside your chest from the image of his open eyes that showered you in emotions; his emotions, even if you did not know exactly what they were. Four, you ached to be close with him and understand everything that was going on inside of you because of him. Five, you felt safe and protected with him. Despite everything, he had become important to you in so many ways. 

You dressed in a pretty, but modest [dress](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/65/87/aa/6587aa1b08923967ef21af6afd2907b4.jpg) of cotton and silk in a light emerald colour that shimmered beautifully. It buttoned up all the way along your front and throat with a stark collar that nearly felt too tight, but wasn't. On its bodice, there were embroidered leaves that shimmered in a sea-green shade that was just enough of a difference in colour to be visible but without being overly visible. The sleeves were the same as the neck of the dress with buttons along the backside of the wrists. The first outer skirt was straight and crisp while the second outer skirt was ruffled in flowing, puffy layers that hung along the front and then it was puffed up at the back. Your backside looked rather large in it but that was just the design of the dress. You had to admit, you loved the dress - even if you wore it without a wired corset. You were still not ready to endure that pain again. 

Memories flashed before your inner eye as you remembered how you had struggled to breathe. How you had eventually fainted only to wake up in his arms, drowned in his emotion to the point where yours were blanked out. To the point where your mind seized to function and had gone silent for the first time in your entire life. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as his stormy eyes made you feel warmth and a strange sensation you couldn't quite place. It tugged and pulled, curled and unfurled inside your stomach. In an, oddly enough, wonderful way that reminded you of ravens gliding on a strong wind high up above in the sky. 

The feeling was intoxicatingly strong yet it felt misplaced inside of you. Why on earth would you feel such things just from thinking about a stranger? _Because of his eyes. It's those eyes. They're - well, I don't know. They're just, just, wonderful..._ You sighed and glanced out the window only to see the sky was being painted in beautiful colours from the rising sun. _Day seven. One week. We've been married for one week and I still don't know him. I need to change that,_ need _to get to know him and what this thing inside of me is and why in God's name it's there._

You looked at yourself in the mirror and tilted your head, what to do with your hair? You had never been the one who did your hair before. It was always a sister or your mother who had done it so you weren't very talented in the whole ordeal that was hairstyling. You settled for simply pinning it up, but you left some loose strands along your neck and the edge of your face before you added a few pinning pearls to at least make it look good enough in comparison to the simple yet elegant dress you wore. _Good enough,_ you nodded at yourself and tugged a bit on the wrists of the dress. You knew the bruises weren’t visible but it felt better to tug them down a little extra. Just to be safe. 

You left your room, with a deep breath in preparation to face the day, to see what Mrs Marsh had cooked up for breakfast. You had no delirious ideas of bumping into Richard as he always left before you even got out of bed in the mornings. Perhaps that was why you froze in place as you were just about to descend the staircase that led you to the entrance hall. His voice thundered through the house in a low murmur that made that hidden, new place in your heart warm. Your pulse quickened and your body warmed at the idea that you might be able to speak with him before he left for work, if he gave you a moment of his time that was. You grabbed your skirts to hoist them up and hurried down the stairs as quickly as your aching feet would allow. Even a little faster than that, you just bit your lip in an effort not to hiss at the stabbing pain from each step that was a little too fast and harsh. 

You wanted to ask him about his actions, his storming eyes, why he had asked for your hand in marriage and so much more but as you entered the library from where his and Mrs Marsh’s voices came from you stopped. Your mind went blank. Your gaze landed on him as he stood by the side of his desk. He was handsomely dressed in a black velvet [coat](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d8/9a/c5/d89ac52aab39be209935a4a58230956f.jpg) decorated with gold leaf embroidery along its front, wrists and collar in leaves and small flowers. A muted golden, nearly bronze fabric on its inside made the black velvet darker and the silky embroidery brighter. His grey hair was neatly ordered, his ascot perfectly fixed with a golden pin and his shoes of black leather shined from being polished; yet he looked tired. As if he had barely slept through the night. It tugged at your heart to see. 

The conversation died as you had appeared in the doorway. Richard was already looking at you, as if he had sensed you a second before you appeared.   
“(Y/n),” he said as if it were a greeting, a question and something else as well. You nodded on a small curtesy and that was when you saw the sack by his boot-clad feet. _He’s travelling this weekend, I, I forgot._ A slightly cold feeling crawled in with the warmth in your stomach from earlier and mingled about.   
“Lady Turpin, shall I prepare your breakfast?” Mrs Marsh asked as you had just levelled yourself from the small curtesy. You looked at her with a gentle smile. Her eyes still had that worried look in them and you weren’t sure if they were for you or for Richard. Perhaps neither.  
“In a moment,” you answered and she nodded. Your eyes returned to your husband. 

“What is the matter?” Richard asked as Mrs Marsh left the library silently. You swallowed and stepped into the room. You had been in it before but never with him there and as you thought about it you weren’t quite sure if he would be angry or not if he knew you had borrowed books from him. After all, you had not asked for his permission and they were his possessions.   
“Where are you travelling to?” you asked quietly with a nod towards the sack, he glanced down at it quickly and then back to you. It afforded you a tiny moment to appreciate his profile. His strong jaw, the distinct nose and the harsh, thin lips that made up his mouth along with the gentle curve of his chin. You shocked yourself by finding yourself thinking he was beautiful. Despite the markings of age.   
“We,” he said after a second's thought, “are travelling to the countryside.” Your eyes bulged a bit, he was taking you with him? He hadn’t said anything earlier about it. In fact, he hadn’t even told you about his plans to travel. Yet there he stood, his posture immaculate and his face harsh, and stated you would be going with him. 

You tilted your head ever so slightly as you clasped your hands in front of you. You felt nervous in his presence, your nerves tingled slightly and you weren't sure what to do with yourself in his dominant and strong presence. But you did notice some similarities in your attire for the day. Even if the colours didn’t match, the leafy details of your clothes did and it felt a bit odd that you had managed that. He took three long strides as you tried to breathe normally and was instantly standing right in front of you. A head taller so you were forced to look up and something about that purred power and it made you a bit flustered to be literally beneath him in such close proximity. You silently thanked the heavens that you had a fully covering dress on.   
“I had not planned for you to come with me,” he said in a low tone, “but I do not wish to leave you behind. Will you come with me?” Your heart fluttered at the gentleness of his words, that he actually _asked_ if you were willing to go with him. You were quite sure he usually just commanded people to do what he pleased and they obeyed no matter what. You nodded slowly as your pulse quickened again from the stance you were in. That wonderfully masculine scent wafted towards you and it made your stomach heat. 

“I’d like that,” you said and your voice was smaller than you had intended. He _did_ intimidate you but not in a bad way. He felt, to you, like a strong and protective man that you oddly enough felt a need to protect as well. Especially as you could truly see how tired he looked up close. _I don't think you slept at all last night..._ You wondered, for a second, a self-centred second, if it was what had happened to you that had kept him up. If he cared enough to be sleepless over something terrible that happened to you. It was a selfish idea, an idea of being wanted and cared for by someone enough for them to lose sleep over something that pained you. But you were only human. A terribly confused human with conflicting thoughts. 

_If we are travelling, maybe we can speak in the carriage, he’d be forced to speak if the trip is long. Maybe, maybe I'd finally get some answers to all of the piling questions._ You were starting to form a plan to get some truly overdue answers out of your stranger of a husband on the trip he had just asked you to accompany him on and that was all the convincing you needed. His eyes softened as you agreed to go with him and there was a tiny swirling in the grey colour, a hint at the storm that he kept hidden from the world. You wanted to know everything about him, which made sense as you were married. However, what you truly wanted to understand was why you felt the way you did for him. You would only be able to do that if you understood why he looked at you and treated you with gentleness when it was obvious you were the only one he did so with. Why he treated you differently and who he actually was, as a person and a soul. 

“Where are we travelling to?” you asked before you were lost in his eyes and your mind would go blank from his proximity again. Also something you didn’t understand as your mind were always spinning and churning, brimming with thoughts and ideas. Yet when he looked at you you just went blank and emotion - physical sensations - took over.   
“Sutton,” _What on earth is in little Sutton?_ You thought as you knitted your brows in confusion. “Pack for three days,” Richard continued as you wondered why you were travelling to Sutton of all places. Sure, it would become a city as soon as the railway was completed but currently, it was only a village, a larger village, but a village nonetheless. What business could he have there? 

But you didn’t ask, you simply nodded as your plan kept forming. It was about a six-hour-long carriage ride to get to Sutton (without any breaks and with the use of strong horses) and that would give you plenty of time to ask questions. _Plenty of time to just be with him, near him, good heavens what am I thinking? Why is my heart pounding and why am I blushing? Why is he looking at me like that?_ You lowered your gaze away from his eyes as the harshness was fading from them and storms were brewing again. You saw his hand fist and unfist by his side. As if he was trying to keep himself from reaching for you. You found that you were holding your hands tighter, harder in front of you as well. A tingling need to touch him dwelled in your fingers. 

“The carriage will arrive shortly. Pack a bag, eat something and we will leave when you are ready.” Your hands were shaking while you kept on keeping them clasped together tightly. Your mind was being cruel to you as it replayed last nights events. Not the dirty mongrels who reeked of smoke and alcohol, but the time in the tub. His embrace, his skin against yours that made you burn and the little fact he had seen you stark naked - it made you feel embarrassed to no end yet you weren't ashamed. The state he saw you in was raw, naked, small and most likely not a nice state to witness someone in. But you also remembered his heaving breaths, his wild gaze and the relife he had displayed as he saw you the moment your eyes had locked. His embrace and the fact he had been shaking as he held you. Why that had been you didn't know but it didn't matter. He had held you despite his own state of distress. 

You shivered, your cheeks flushed a brighter red as your skin tingled.   
“How long do I have?”   
“As long as you need, I shall wait and so will the carriage.” His words warmed you. They were gentle, soothing and you felt yet again as if you had a privilege none other had. You knew, by rumours mostly though, that Lord and Judge Turpin was not a patient man. That he did not wait or dawdle. Nor did he extend any leniency towards others who kept him waiting. It was just a rumour but you had heard that he had once sentenced three men to death for such a small thing as being late for his ruling. Not only the criminal who had committed a crime but also the two guards who were responsible for escorting the man to court, the men who were late and forced the Judge to wait. You shivered again as the memory of the rumour from a while back slithered through your mind like a snake of ice. You could not match all the cruel things you had heard with the man in front of you. With your husband. 

“Love, pack your things.” Richard’s voice rolled through you and you jolted slightly as your mind had drifted for a second. Your head was a bit of a mess so no words came to mind as you gave him a small smile while you lightly tilted your head to look up at him. He looked down at you with a stoic expression but the storms that were brewing in his eyes grew as you just looked into each other's eyes. That short moment should have been awkward - yet it was not. Then you turned to leave when you felt you would go blank if you kept looking into the grey pools that had started dripping his emotions over you. Had you looked back before you left the library you would have seen a man utterly lost in his adoration for you along with abhorrent fear and trepidation for the future. But you did not, you were too occupied by the soaring ravens in your stomach that flapped their wings in a flurry because of the fact that he had called you ‘love’. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** So, did you enjoy this? Did you enjoy the slowburn fluff? O.O   
> It feels super odd after all the angst, the action, the pain, the fear and all the feels xD   
> But I think you guys needed some cutsie stuff 🙈 <3


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